


Always Bet on Dean

by linasane



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Dean, Bisexuality, Charlie knows all, Dean Reads Fanfiction, Dean and Romantic/Sexual Orientation, Grad Student Castiel, M/M, Sam's kindof a dick (sorry!)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2615081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linasane/pseuds/linasane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean discovers fanfiction and the “Coffee Hut Hottie,” Castiel makes history interesting, and Charlie is always right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, and welcome to my very first DCBB fic!
> 
> I gotta say, I had no idea what I was getting into when I signed up, but it's been a totally awesome experience.
> 
> So first of all, here's to my wonderful artist, [purplesummer91](http://purplesummer91.tumblr.com/), for managing to make the art for my fic while simultaneously working on a big bang of her own (which I believe is posting in a few days). You can check out her art masterpost [here](http://purplesummer91.tumblr.com/post/102615177716/companion-art-to-always-bet-on-dean-by-linasane/) :).
> 
> And secondly, a HUGE thanks to my amazing beta, [supernaturallynoble](http://supernaturallynoble.tumblr.com/) for not only putting up with all of my punctuation issues, but also rocking that history knowledge (seriously guys, I have no idea why I decided to make Cas such a fan of my absolute worst subject in school...I couldn't have done it without her) and generally being awesome.
> 
> Also, as cheesy as it sounds, thanks to all of you guys who are reading! This story means a lot to me, and I really hope you all enjoy it. Whatever you think of it, comments and feedback are always appreciated!!
> 
> (For an extra note about semi-spoiler-y tags, check out the notes at the end of this chapter)

* * *

 

Dean rested his elbow on the counter and laid his head on his hand.  He was so not made for morning shifts.  He stayed like that, half asleep and staring at the empty tables scattering the courtyard in front of him, until a steaming cup of coffee was thrust into his field of vision.

“Here,” Jo told him, “You look like you need it.”

Dean took a sip and nearly moaned at the taste of sweet, caffeinated goodness.

“Why the fuck did I agree to working morning shifts this semester?” he grumbled.

“Because you get to work with me, of course,” Jo told him with a smile, “Best part of the job and you know it, Winchester.”

Dean just shook his head at her.  Before he could open his mouth to ask how she was so goddamn chipper at eight am, another voice cut in.

“It’s because we needed a big, strapping man to help us drag all the shit out of the hut during opening,” Meg drawled, tying on her apron.

This was true.  The coffee hut they all worked at had to be locked up every night which meant all of the fridges and machinery had to be brought back out and moved into place every morning.  The managers always made sure there was a guy on both opening and closing shifts, despite all the female employees’ assertions that they could handle it themselves (something Dean didn’t doubt for a second).  It was why Dean and Benny never got to work together; one had to close and the other had to open.

Of course, Dean had drawn the short straw this semester, so he was stuck working from six-thirty to eleven four days a week (the manager opened on Tuesdays, thank god – Dean hated Tuesdays).  Sadly, this also meant Dean spent the majority of his mornings working with all girls.  He didn’t mind Jo and Charlie at all, but Meg and April were…trying.

It was Monday, so he was working with Jo and Meg – not the worst combination.  Both girls were currently standing at the register, gossiping.

“Has it happened yet?” Meg asked.

“Not yeeeet,” Jo sing-songed back at her, “It’s only eight, though.  We’ve got fifteen more minutes.”

Dean rolled his eyes; he’d heard from Benny that this was the new morning routine here at the Coffee Hut, no matter which girls were on shift.  He downed the rest of his coffee and busied himself with cleaning the back counter.  From what he’d been told, he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to work the register or the espresso machine until _he_ had come by.

Sure enough, at eight-fifteen on the dot, an uncharacteristic hush fell upon the front of the hut.

“Hey there,” he heard Meg say. “What can I do for you?”

“The usual?” Jo piped up, “Black coffee with an extra shot?”

The next voice was unfamiliar, “Yes, please.  Thank you.”  And _damn_ this guy’s voice was deep as fuck – totally not what Dean expected.

He’d heard all about the “Coffee Hut Hottie”, but he’d never actually seen the guy in person.  If he was honest, he’d kindof just assumed the girls were making a big deal out of nothing.  Benny had always rolled his eyes at the whole ordeal, but now Dean couldn’t help but look up in curiosity.

The man at the front of the hut was about his size, maybe an inch or so shorter.  From what Dean could see of his outfit, the dude was more on the nerdy side.  He was wearing a white button-up shirt, messenger bag slung over his shoulder.  His hair was parted on the side and styled neatly into place, and his face was clean shaven.  The only really distinct thing about him seemed to be the guy’s eyes; they were a ridiculously bright shade of blue and stood out even from a distance.  As Jo and Meg went about making small talk with the guy as they prepared his coffee, he looked over and caught Dean’s eye.  Dean gave the other man a small smile before turning back to cleaning the counter.

As he worked, he could hear Meg and Jo’s high pitched flirting behind him.  He couldn’t help but roll his eyes.  He’d expected it from Meg, but hearing one of his best friends turn on the charm was always amusing.  Tough Jo Harvelle – the girl with the knife collection – being reduced to a giggling schoolgirl by some blue-eyed guy was something he never thought he’d see.

The other man left and Dean turned around to face the girls, not one to miss an opportunity to give them a hard time.  He barely had to cock an eyebrow at his friend before she morphed back into the Jo Harvelle he knew and feared.

“Oh shut it, Winchester,” she growled, punching him in the arm (and damn that girl packed a punch).

Dean rubbed at his arm, “I didn’t even say anything! Jesus, Jo.”

“Aww come on, Dean-o,” Meg said. “You have to admit that Cassie there’s a regular hottie.”

“Yeah, not exactly my type there, Meg,” Dean said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes yet again.“And Cassie?  Wait – how do you know the guy’s name, anyways?  Creepy stalker, much?”

“Snuck a glance at his credit card,” Jo said, coming up behind Dean to rejoin their conversation. “Castiel J. Novak.  Blue-eyed hottie extraordinaire, and total caffeine junkie.”

“Yep,” Dean said, “definitely creepy stalker status.  What is it with all of you and this guy anyway?”

“Did you see him?” Jo asked. “I mean his eyes alone are amazing.”

“And his _ass_ ,” Meg cut in. “Mmm, the things I would do to that man…”

“Oh god, kill me now,” Dean whined, turning to escape to the far end of the hut as the two girls continued to chatter on behind him.

By the end of his shift, almost three hours later, Dean didn’t want to hear about Castiel J. Novak ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so I didn't wanna put this at the beginning of the chapter, cos I wasn't sure if I should tag these warnings since they're kindof spoiler-y, but this fic does deal with Dean figuring out his bisexuality, and there is some amount of angst/anxiety that goes along with that. There's also some doubt from other characters. If anyone thinks I should add this to the tags, PLEASE let me know. Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

Of course, Dean wouldn’t be so lucky.  Every morning, Castiel came to the Coffee Hut, and every morning it sent Dean’s female coworkers into a frenzy.  By Friday, he decided to just roll with it.  He had to admit, the effect this guy had on the Coffee Hut girls was actually pretty hilarious, and, with a different set of coworkers each day, he had no idea what to expect.

If he had thought Monday with Meg and Jo was annoying, he was in no way prepared for the hell-storm that was Meg and April.

By eight-ten on Wednesday both of the girls had made separate runs to the bathroom to check their makeup, and were all but shoving at each other to make sure they were in prime man-spotting position.  Dean stayed in the far corner of the hut, instincts telling him very clearly not to get involved in whatever battle was about the break out at the register.

At eight-fifteen, as Castiel approached, April managed to get the upper hand, leaving Meg to slink behind the espresso machine in defeat.

“Hi there,” April said cheerily. “What can I get for you?”

Dean all but winced at his coworker’s sugary-sweet tone.  Having known April for an entire semester, he was well aware that it was entirely fake.  Complain as he did, Dean could deal with all of the girls at the hut, except April.  He liked to think he could keep up the charm with just about anyone – hell, he even managed to get along with Meg most days – but there was something about April that just completely rubbed him the wrong way.

He was almost proud to see that the other man seemed to be having the same reaction to his coworker.  As she continued to prattle on in her syrupy-sweet, little girl voice, Dean watched Castiel’s face become more and more expressionless, lips pressing together as if to avoid saying anything rude.

Dean felt the sudden urge to high-five the other man, and couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the thought.  Oh shit.  April turned around to spear him with a look that could probably kill, and Castiel used her momentary distraction to dart around to the other side of the hut, where Meg had his coffee waiting.  As he grabbed the cup, he mouthed a “thank you” to Dean, and Dean couldn’t help but give the guy a quick smile and nod back.

His smile lasted all of thirty seconds before April passed by and elbowed him in the gut, _hard_.

“What the _fuck_?” he hissed through his teeth.

“That’s for getting in my way,” April sneered at him.

Meg rolled her eyes at that, “Oh, please.  He wanted nothing to do with you.  I mean, did you see how quickly he ran over to me?  And I should thank you for putting me on coffee duty, it gave me time to write my number on his cup.”  She winked saucily at the other girl before sauntering out to restock the fridge.

April let out a frustrated noise and Dean quickly moved to the farthest corner of the hut possible.

Wednesdays were gonna be a bitch of a shift.

* * *

On Thursday, Dean worked another shift with Meg and Jo.  It was much easier than his Monday shift.  He actually knew what to expect from the girls this time in terms of ridiculous high-pitched squealing and gossip, so it was tolerable.  Hell, he might even have gone as far as to describe the whole thing as entertaining at this point.

While the girls shuffled about at the front of the hut making small talk with Castiel and brewing his coffee, Dean took a moment to really watch the other man.  He figured he’d scope the whole situation out for Jo, seeing as he was kindof rooting for her in this whole thing (if Meg or April ever ended up with this guy, he was pretty sure their smugness would be _unbearable_ ).

Now Dean Winchester was no slouch with the ladies.  He could be a bit shy at times, yeah, but he knew how to push through that, slap on a cocky exterior, and lay on the charm.  As such, Dean was pretty confident he knew all the moves in the book, and this Castiel guy? He wasn’t using _any_ of them.  Yeah, he was being polite and all, listening and responding to what the girls were saying, even offering a small smile when the conversation warranted it, but that was about it.  It was the same sort of detached politeness Dean would use with someone’s grandmother.  But hey, for all he knew, that was the buttoned-up academic nerd mating call.

The girls finally let Castiel escape with his coffee and descended into hushed whispers at the front of the hut.  Dean just shrugged and returned to reorganizing the back counter.

* * *

Finally, it was Friday.  It had been a long first week of the semester, but Dean found himself in much better spirits that morning.  It was almost the weekend and he was looking forward to going back home and hanging out with his little brother, Sam.  In the meantime, he was working with Jo and Charlie, two of his closest friends.

Dean figured he and Charlie, who had been with her girlfriend Dorothy for almost two years now, would be able conspire and laugh at Jo’s flirting when the “Coffee Hut Hottie” came by.  Boy was he wrong.

When Castiel stepped up to the counter at his usual time of eight-fifteen on the dot, Charlie, surprisingly, was the one who stepped up to the register, leaving Jo on drinks.

“Hiya,” she said, smiling wide. “Black coffee with an extra shot for ya?”

“Yes, please,” Castiel said, much more subdued.

“You got it,” Charlie chirped, and – hold up – that was _totally_ her flirting smile.

It was Jo’s turn then, apparently.  As she handed the hot coffee over to Castiel, she smiled and actually fucking _winked_.  “Have a nice day!” she called out.

Before the man had even disappeared from view, Jo and Charlie were whispering and giggling, and Dean was wondering just what the hell it was about this guy that had turned his friends into fifteen-year olds.

* * *

“Seriously,” Dean said to Benny, “I don’t get it.”

It was later that evening and a few of them had decided to grab some food and some beers at the campus pub.  Dean’s curiosity about their Coffee Hut regular had finally got the best of him, and he wanted to figure out just what it was about this guy that had all the girls freaking out about him.

“Brother,” Benny said, looking over at the bar, where Charlie and Jo had gone to get a pitcher, “I worked with them all of last semester, and that happened every damn day, and I _still_ don’t get it. There are some things in this world that just can’t be explained.”

Dean thought about that for a second, rolling his lip ring between his teeth.  He always loved the weekends, when he could take out his retainers and put all of his jewelry back in (and fuck their campus food service department’s rules on looking “presentable”).  He and Benny sat there for a moment before Dean couldn’t help but speak up again.

“But seriously, dude.  I mean this guy has literally every single girl we work with wrapped around his finger.  I swear, he even had Charlie batting her eyelashes at him today!”

“Who had Charlie doing what now?” the individual in question piped up from behind Dean as she laid four frosty glasses out on the table and plopped down into the chair next to him.  Jo slid into the booth across from her, setting a pitcher of cold beer down in the middle.

Benny chuckled and reached for the pitched. “Our boy Dean here is jealous of the influence our coffee hut regular, Mr. Castiel Novak, seems to have on you ladies,” he confided, pouring everyone a drink.

“I am not _jealous_ ,” Dean protested, “I just don’t get it.  I mean, Charlie, you were flirting with him today, and you don’t even like guys.”

 “Aw come on, Dean.  You don’t have to be into guys to see it,” Charlie said, before lowering her voice and batting her eyelashes comically. “Castiel is _dreamy_.”  She laughed then before continuing, “Besides, what’s the harm in a little flirting?  It’s not like any of us is actually gonna get the guy in the end.”

“Was that a challenge, Bradbury?” Jo asked, leaning across the table, “Cos I bet you twenty bucks I can get the guy to ask me out on a date by the end of the semester.”

“I don’t know about that one, Jo,” Benny said, “I mean, no offense and all, but if we’re betting here, my money’s on April.”

The entire table turned to stare at him, expressions ranging from doubt to disgust.

“Hey, I didn’t say I was rootin’ for her, or anything,” he said, throwing his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “I mean, hell, that girl gives me the heebie jeebies somethin’ fierce.  But if it turns into a competition, that one’ll do whatever it takes to win.”

“Nah, man,” Dean said, “Jo here’s a tough one.  She’s got it in the bag.”

“Damn right!” Jo said, reaching across the table for a high five.

“Okay, let’s bet on it then,” Charlie said, a wicked gleam in her eye.

The other three agreed enthusiastically, before Dean realized something.

“Wait a minute, Charlie,” he said. “Who’re you going for?”

Charlie smirked at him, “Something tells me Castiel isn’t looking at any of us girls.  So my money’s on you, Dean-o.”

“Uh, Charlie,” Dean said, feeling a flush rise to his face that he would totally blame on the alcohol should anyone call him on it, “There is that one little detail where I’m straight and not about to go out with the guy.  You remember that, right?”

The redhead’s grin only grew at that. “The bet was for him to ask someone out; we never specified said person had to accept,” she pointed out.

Benny laughed at that.  “Touché, sister,” he said, raising a glass. “To this bet, then.  May the best Coffee Hut employee win!”

The four friends laughed and cheered, bringing their glasses together in the center of the table.  They proceeded to talk and joke late into the night, as they always did, the bet completely forgotten.


	3. Chapter 3

On Saturday morning, Dean pulled up to his parents’ house in the ’67 Chevy Impala his dad had passed down to him for his sixteenth birthday; a shiny black beast whose low rumble made the drive home just that much more enjoyable.  He got out of the car quickly, excited to be home, only pausing to grab his duffle bag from the backseat and sling it over his shoulder.  He all but ran up the front steps and burst through the door.

“Lucy, I’m ho-ome!” he called out, exaggerated accent and all.

There was a snort from the living room.  “You’re such a nerd, Dean,” he heard his brother say.

Dean dropped his duffle bag and the door and kicked off his shoes.  He proceeded to vault over the back of the couch, landing next to his brother.

“You’re the nerd, bitch,” he retorted, smile on his face.

Sam couldn’t help but smile too, as he reached out a leg to give Dean a joking kick to the side,  “Whatever…jerk.”

“You guys are so cute!!” came a squeal from the armchair, and Dean definitely didn’t let out a high pitched yelp at the unexpected intrusion.

He whirled around to determine the source of the noise, only to find – oh god, no, “Becky??”

“Hi, Dean,” Becky grinned and waggled her fingers at him from the armchair.

Dean groaned.  “Why are you in my house?” he complained. “I thought you were off at boarding school or something.”

“My parents pulled me out,” Becky explained cheerfully. “Something about developing better social skills or whatever.  So I’m back at school with Sam.”

Before Dean could respond, Becky’s phone went off, and she hopped up and went into the kitchen to answer it.

Dean took advantage of her absence to turn and glare at his brother.

“Sam,” he said, annoyed, “Why the hell is Becky here?”

Sam threw his hands up innocently, “I don’t know!  She came over to work on a project for English, and now I can’t get her to leave!

Dean just continued to stare at his brother “Really, Sammy?  She’s like five feet tall and you’re a friggin’ sasquatch.  You couldn’t come up with any way of getting her to leave?”

Sam shrugged helplessly and Dean rolled his eyes, muttering, “Useless moose of a brother…I’ll take care of this.”

He was getting up off the couch, about to head into the kitchen where Becky was, when he heard a shriek and the girl in question came running into the room, grabbing the remote and frantically flipping through the channels.

“Becky, what the hell are you doing?” Dean started, although he lost his train of thought when the television settled on a familiar show.

“There’s a Dr. Sexy marathon on!” Becky said, sitting cross-legged on the armchair and bouncing up and down excitedly.

Dean didn’t say a word, just walked into the kitchen and grabbed a beer and two sodas.  When he walked back into the tv room and handed Sam and Becky each a drink, his little brother stared at him in disbelief.

“What?” Dean said. “Aw come on, Sammy, it’s Dr. Sexy!”

Sam let out an exasperated sigh, but he popped the tab on his soda, and the three of them settled in to watch tv.

* * *

They were halfway through the first episode when Becky squealed yet again.

“You have got to stop doing that,” Dean grumbled, rubbing at his temples.

“I can’t _help_ it!” she cried, “Piccawang is just too adorable!  I ship it soooooo hard!!”

Both Dean and Sam just stared at her blankly.

“You do what to who now?” Dean finally asked.

“Piccawang!” Becky said, reaching over to mute the television, “You know, Dr. Piccolo and Dr. Wang?  I ship them.  Like, I want them to be together?  There’s _totally_ romantic subtext there.”  She paused and sighed dramatically, “It’s not canon, though, so I have to rely on fanfiction.”

“Fanfiction?” Sam asked, thoroughly confused.

“Yes!” Becky said, pulling out her phone and scrolling through it quickly before handing it over to Sam, who gave it a brief once over before practically throwing the phone at Dean.  Dean scrolled through the page as Becky continued to explain, “They’re stories, written by Piccawang shippers, like me, where Dr. Piccolo and Dr. Wang are _finally_ together!”

“Dude!” Dean said, eyes catching on a particularly raunchy line of text, “There’s like full on lesbian sex in here!”

Becky scoffed, “Oh that’s nothing.  You should see some of the smuttier fics out there.”

“Where?” Dean asked, actually interested now.

“Ao3, fanfiction.net, livejournal,” Becky said, waving at hand at Dean, eyes trained on the television as she switched the volume back on. “Now shush, this is my favorite part!!”

Dean shut up and kept scrolling through Becky’s phone, only looking up a few minutes later to find Sam staring at him incredulously.

“Oh don’t give me that look, Sammy,” Dean said. “It’s like free girl-on-girl porn.  Who am I to say no to that?”

Sam just dropped his face into his hands, mumbling something about ridiculous older brothers, as Becky and Dean continued to be absorbed in their show.

* * *

The three of them stayed like that, sprawled out on the couches in front of the TV for hours until Dean’s parents got home sometime in the afternoon.

“Dean! Sam!” John Winchester called out. “Come help your mother and me unload the groceries from the truck!”

Sam and Dean both jumped up immediately and headed outside, leaving Becky still thoroughly enthralled with Dr. Sexy.

“Hey, Ma,” Dean said, walking over to where Mary stood by the back of the truck.

“Hi, sweetie,” Mary said, reaching up to pull her eldest son into a hug. “When did you get home?”

“Earlier this morning,” Dean told her, “Where’ve you been all day, anyway?”

“Holy crap,” Sam said, peering into the back of the truck to find a sea of groceries. “Where did you guys go?”

Mary laughed sheepishly, looking between her two boys before shrugging.  “Costco,” she explained. “I may have gotten a bit out of hand.”

Sam laughed and grabbed a few things to haul into the house.

“So, Dean,” Mary said, grabbing an armful of her own, “how was your first week of the semester?”

Loaded up with a box of groceries, Dean laughed, “Oh, man, Ma.  You wouldn’t believe the crazy things that happen at work.”

As they unloaded the car, unpacked the groceries, and got started in on making dinner, Dean explained the madness that was the Coffee Hut, just enjoying spending time with his mom.

* * *

Later that night, Dean was lying in bed with his laptop.  He opened his web browser and was about to type in the url for his usual night-time internet site, bustyasianbeauties.com, when he remembered what Becky had been saying earlier and clicked over to his search engine instead and typing in A-O-3.

When the results popped up, all leading him to something called “Archive of Our Own,”Dean figured he had found the right site.  So, feeling only slightly weird about the whole thing, he clicked the first link.

It brought him to the website’s homepage, and he wasn’t quite sure where to go from there.  Going off of instinct, he typed “Dr. Piccolo” into the search bar, hit enter, and found himself presented with pages upon pages of options.

There was no way he was weeding through all of this, so he just started clicking on stories at random.  He was surprised to find that, while all the stories were about the famed Dr. Piccolo, she wasn’t always paired with Dr. Wang.  Dean kept clicking, getting more and more frustrated, and more and more weirded out, until he stumbled upon a story where Dr. Piccolo was making out with her own mother, and decided enough was enough, closing out of the site window.

Never one to back down from a challenge, though, Dean opened up his search engine yet again, this time typing in “dr. piccolo dr. wang fanfiction.”

This time, the top site looked promising, describing itself as “An introduction to all things Piccawang.”

He spent the next few hours before he fell asleep learning all about the world of fanfiction.  He sifted through information about how the ship had started, the show’s so-called “homoerotic subtext,” and so on, until finally reaching a glossary of terms.

There he found the definitions for AUS, WIPS, fluff, and his new favorite, smut.  Clicking on that link finally brought Dean to the plethora of porn he had been searching for all night.

As the first page loaded, Dean settled into his pillows.  The story he’d chosen had a word count over ten-thousand, but he figured it couldn’t be that hard to just read a couple chapters and then go right to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

By Thursday, Dean was addicted – enough so that he was reading on his phone as he stood behind the register.  He’d always been a bit of a book worm, but this was getting ridiculous.  He didn’t think that what started out as a search for porn would turn into something more.  After he read a few fanfictions that were basically just incredibly hot girl-on-girl sex (and really, he had no problem with that), he had clicked on one that had more of a storyline and been blown away.  He thought this was just weird nerds like Becky writing porn, but the actual core of the story had been well-written and amazing.  After those 30,000 words, he had been hooked.

He was just about halfway through a 100,000 word dystopian AU.  It was a slow enough time at the hut that he was the only one up at the front – Jo was in the back storage doing inventory.  He was so absorbed in the story that he didn’t even notice a customer approaching until the man cleared his throat.

Dean looked up and was confronted with ultra-blue eyes – Castiel.

“Uh,” he said, feeling a flush rise to his cheeks as he quickly locked his phone screen. “Hey, man.  Surprised to see you back here.  Hard day?”

Castiel quirked a bit of a smile, “You could say that.  I’ve got a meeting and, as the youngest one attending, I’ve been ‘volunteered’ to get everyone’s coffee.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the other guy’s awkward use of air quotes.  “That sucks, dude.  Well, what’s on the list?” he asked, gesturing to the slip of paper in Castiel’s hand.

“One medium half-caf latte, one small black coffee, one half-sweet white mocha, and a large decaf coffee,” he said, looking up at Dean guiltily. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” Dean said with a shrug, ringing everything up. “Which one of those is yours?”

“Oh none for me, thanks,” the other man said. “I can’t handle that much caffeine in one day.”

“They made you come get drinks, and you’re not even getting one for yourself?  Man, that really sucks,” Dean said as he set about making all the drinks.

“Yes, well, that seems to be what happens when you’re the youngest student in the PhD program,” Castiel said with a shrug.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean said, “How’d you end up in that situation?”

“Got out of undergrad a year early,” the other man explained, “I thought it was a great idea at the time.  Now, though, I’m not so sure.”

“Ah well, hopefully it’ll all pay off in the end, right?” Dean said from behind the espresso machine.  When the other man just nodded, he continued. “What’re you getting your PhD in anyways?”

“History,” Castiel answered.

Dean was unable to hold back his scowl, choosing instead to hide behind the machinery.  “Really?” he asked, “I gotta say, man, that’s always been my least favorite subject.  How’d you get into it anyway?”

There was a beat of silence, and Dean worried he had offended the guy, but when he peeked his head around the espresso machine, Castiel had a small smile on his face.

“It can be very interesting when presented in the right manner,” he said. “And it’s just something I’ve always been passionate about.  I used to read textbooks for fun when I was a child.”

“No shit,” Dean said, the curse word slipping out without his notice; there was something about  Castiel that had Dean feeling really comfortable, despite his usual anxiety around people.

Castiel just chucked, a low rumble. “No shit,” he said softly.

There was a beat of silence as Dean moved around putting lids on drinks

 “Your coffees are ready,” he eventually said.

“Oh, right, thank you,” Castiel said, moving around to the pick-up station.  He stared down at the drinks for a second before cocking his head to the side and squinting a bit in confusion.

“There’s an extra drink here.”

“Ah, yeah,” Dean said, awkwardly bringing a hand up to the back of his neck before giving Cas a quick half-smile, “Cinnamon hot chocolate.  No caffeine, but it might help you get through that meeting a little easier.”

The other man returned the smile.  “Thank you…” he said, eyes flicking momentarily up to the name tag on the barista’s hat, “Dean.”

“No problem…”

“Castiel.”

“Well, no problem, Castiel,” Dean said.

He moved back to set about cleaning up the steam wand and the mess he had made.  It was another half minute before he realized Castiel wasn’t moving.

“You okay there, man?” he asked.

Castiel was staring down at the multitude of drinks in front of him.  “You wouldn’t happen to have drink carriers here, would you?”

Dean shook his head, “Unfortunately, no.”

The other man sighed, “I guess I’ll be making multiple trips, then.”

He was moving to pick up a few of the drinks when Dean spoke up again.

“You know what?” he said, “I get off here in like five minutes.  If you don’t mind waiting, I can help you carry all of those.”

Castiel’s hunched shoulders relaxed slightly in relief.  “That would be wonderful, Dean, thank you.”

* * *

A few minutes later, Benny showed up and Dean clocked out, sliding his messenger bag over his shoulder.

“See ya later,” he called to his coworkers as he moved toward the pick-up station where Castiel was still waiting.

Castiel already had a drink in each hand, so Dean scooped up the remaining three with ease.

“You’re very good at that,” Castiel said as they walked away from the hut.

“Yeah well, comes with the job,” Dean said with a shrug. “Where are we heading, anyway?”

“The Kripke Building,” the other man said sheepishly.  Said building was completely across the campus.

“Cool,” Dean said, “I’m headed to the library anyways, and that’s right next door.”

They walked on in silence for a few minutes before Dean felt the need to break it.

“So what was it you were saying about history being interesting when it’s presented right?” he asked, “Cos I gotta say, man, I don’t exactly believe you on that one.  My brother’s always watching the history channel or whatever, and I don’t think I’ve made it through a single episode of anything without falling asleep.”

The other man chuckled at that. “Your brother watches the history channel?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “For _fun_ , the nerd.  Aaanyways – explain to me how history can be interesting.”

Castiel was silent for a moment, thinking, before an idea seemed to dawn of him.

“Dean,” he said, lips quirked up into a hint of a smile, “Have you ever heard of the Tower of Babel?”

“Biblical history?” Dean said, “Really?”  Castiel just stared him down for a moment, and he relented, waving his coffee-laden hands in a “go on…” motion.

“The Tower of Babel was thirty-seven feet tall, which I suppose was impressive at the time.  Eventually, it fell, and people howled ‘divine wrath.’  But honestly, dried dung can only be stacked so high,” the man chuckled before continuing his story, “Sorry.  I think I’m getting ahead of myself here. Let me start at the beginning…”

As Castiel spoke, Dean found that he really was being drawn in to the story, the combination of the other man’s deep voice and enthusiasm a successful lure.  Castiel wrapped up the tale just as they reached the steps of the Kripke Building, and Dean could only gape at him for a moment.

“Well shit, dude,” he finally breathed, “I stand corrected.  You should teach that stuff or something.”

Castiel smiled, “I intend to.”

They stood there for a second before they were interrupted by a voice from the front of the building.

“Castiel!” called a redhead in a pantsuit from where she stood next to a scruffy looking man. “Come along.  You don’t want to be late for the meeting.”

“Of course not, Naomi,” Castiel said. “I just need some help with these coffees here.”

The two walked over and relieved Dean of his three coffee cups, before walking briskly into the building.

Castiel moved to follow them before turning back to Dean.

“Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime,” Dean said, and he meant it. “Thanks for the history lesson.”

Castiel smiled. “Anytime.” he said, as he turned to walk into the building, “Goodbye, Dean.  I’m sure I’ll see you at the Hut tomorrow morning.”

Dean grinned, “Yup.  See you tomorrow, Cas.”

He made it to the library elevators before he realized what he had said and froze.  Shit.  He had randomly nicknamed the guy – something he had only ever done for people he had been friends with for years.  But then again, Castiel hadn’t made any comment on it, and he hadn’t _seemed_ offended, so Dean tried to shrug it off as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button.

* * *

Later that night, Dean found that he still couldn’t get the story of the Tower of Babel out of his head.  _Damn_ , he thought, _history really can be interesting_.

He told himself the same thing the next morning, when he woke up from dreams about falling towers and bright blue eyes.

After all, what else could it have been?


	5. Chapter 5

Two weeks passed and everything was fairly normal at the Coffee Hut – well, as normal as it could get.  The girls still fawned over Castiel every time he came by, and Dean still pretty much just stayed out of their way.  Although now, sometimes, he caught Castiel’s eye when the girls were talking and gave the other man a nod or – if it was Meg or April hitting on him – a small supportive smile.

That Thursday, Castiel once again came by the hut for a second time.  It had been a busier day, so both Jo and Dean were out front, and Jo took the opportunity to get on the register.

“Hey there,” she said, overly flirtatious without any of the other girls around, “Back for more?”

Castiel looked a bit flustered at that.  “Um, yes.  I have a list of coffees I need,” he said, fumbling with the paper in his hand before rattling off his order.

Dean jumped on the espresso machine, making Castiel’s coffees while Jo rang him up, only half listening as Jo chatted him up enthusiastically.

Eventually, the other man walked around to the pickup area.

“Hello, Dean,” he greeted.

Dean looked up from where he was steaming milk.  “Hey, Cas.  Another meeting today?” he asked.

Castiel nodded, “Unfortunately, yes.”

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the forlorn look on the other man’s face, “You get anything for yourself this time?”

“No,” he said, watching as Dean grabbed another cup from the stack next to him, “It’s not necessary, really –”

“Don’t worry about it, man.  You like the last one?”

“Yes,” Cas said, lips quirking up at the corners. “It certainly did make the meeting that much more bearable.”

“Well then,” Dean smiled, “One cinnamon hot chocolate, coming right up.”

He set about making the rest of Cas’s drinks, completely oblivious to the way Jo was staring, open-mouthed, eyes flicking between him and Castiel.  When he snapped the lid the final drink of the order, he glanced over at the clock and saw that his shift was just about over.

“You need some help carrying these?” he asked Cas.

The other man nodded, “Yes, please.”

Dean clocked out and untied his apron just as Benny walked into the Hut.  When he turned to say goodbye to Jo, she was still staring at him incredulously.

“What?”

She shook her head, “Nothing.”

“Oookay.  See you tomorrow?”

“Nah.  I’ve got a paper due, switched shifts with April.”

Dean groaned at that, knowing that he’d be spending his Friday morning protecting Charlie from his least favorite coworker.

“Aw, cheer up, Winchester,” Jo told him, with a harder-than-necessary pat on the shoulder, “We’re still on for drinks with everyone tomorrow night.”

The thought did make Dean’s outlook a little bit brighter.  “Okay,” he said with a smile, tossing his dirty apron at Jo as he walked past her, “See you then, Harvelle.”

Dean slipped on his messenger bag as he headed out of the hut and walked around to the pickup area.  Cas already had two coffees in his hands, so Dean grabbed the other three and they headed across campus.

They walked in a peaceful silence for a bit, before Dean spoke up.

“So,” he said, “what’s the history lesson for today?”

Castiel laughed at that.  “I thought history was boring,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at the younger man.

Dean shrugged, “Yeah, well.  You might have been right about it being all in how the information’s presented.  So hit me with some more history facts there, teach.”

“Okay,” Cas said with a smile.  He looked around thoughtfully for a minute, as if seeking inspiration, until his eyes landed on the paper cups in his hands.  “How about the history of coffee?” he suggested.

“Shoot,” Dean said, gesturing to for Cas to continue with the cups in his own hands.

“Well, when humans first discovered coffee – before anyone actually started to brew it – we’d just chew the berries.  According to folk tale, we learned it from goats.”

“No way,” Dean said, shaking his head and chuckling. “You’re just messing with me now.”

“It’s true!” Castiel insisted, eyes so wide and earnest that Dean couldn’t help but believe him.

“Okay, fine,” Dean conceded, “but that’s fucking weird, man.”

“True,” Cas admitted, “but we humans have been known to do much weirder things throughout history.”

“Oh yeah?  What else?”

Castiel rattled off example after example as they continued their trek across the campus.

* * *

“…barbed?  What the fuck, man?  How do you even know this shit?” Dean said, trying not to let his laughter jostle the coffees in his hands.  Their conversation had progressed from history to general knowledge, and Dean had discovered that Cas was a font of useless information.

Castiel just shrugged.  “I read a lot,” he said with a smile.

“Dude,” Dean said, knocking their shoulders together in a friendly gesture, “you’re such a nerd.”

The other man’s gaze shifted to Dean’s messenger bag at that.  There was a multitude of pins attached to the front, most notably the Star Trek insignia and the TARDIS.  He stared pointedly at these before returning his gaze to Dean, who blushed slightly.

“Okay, so maybe I’m a nerd too,” he admitted before pointing an accusatory finger, “but you’re a history nerd, and that’s totally worse!”

Castiel just chuckled as the two men finally reached their destination, climbing the stairs to the Kripke building.

This time, none of Castiel’s colleagues were around to help with the multitude of coffees, so Cas asked Dean to help him take the coffees up to his office on the third floor, just next to the meeting room.  When they got there, Dean looked out of the room’s small window and groaned.  In the maybe five minutes they’d been inside, it had started to rain, hard.

“Shit,” he muttered.  He’d been in a bit of a rush this morning, and had run out of his apartment without even a jacket, let alone an umbrella.

“How far do you have to go?” Cas asked, surveying the change in weather through the buildings large windows.

“Not too far.  I parked just off campus, so like ten, fifteen minutes if I run?”

Castiel turned and rummaged around in the room’s small desk for a moment, finally straightening up with a triumphant smile and a small umbrella.

“Here,” he said. “This should help.”

Dean shook his head, “Thanks but it’s okay, man.  You’ll probably need that later.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cas told him, gesturing to a tan trenchcoat slung over the back of his desk chair. “I’ve got my coat, and I’m parked in the lot next door.”  When the younger man hesitated, he continued, thrusting the umbrella toward him, “Seriously, Dean.  Take it.  You can get it back to me at the Hut tomorrow.”

Dean finally took it, and Castiel smiled.

“Uh, thanks, man,” Dean said. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”

“See you tomorrow, Dean.

* * *

Dean made it to his car fifteen minutes later, nice and dry thanks to Castiel.  He smiled the whole way home.


	6. Chapter 6

Friday afternoon found Dean lying on his bed with his laptop, in the middle of his most recent piece of fanfiction.  He was halfway through a fairly steamy scene between Dr. Piccolo and Dr. Wang and contemplating taking advantage of the fact that he had the place all to himself, when suddenly Charlie burst through the door.

Flustered, Dean tried to exit out of all of his tabs, unsuccessfully.  Of course, Charlie noticed his discomfort, and when she bounded over and flopped down beside him on the bed, the first thing she did was lean over to try and get a glimpse of his screen.

“Watcha doin’?” she asked, voice full of mock innocence.

Dean just glared at her.  “What happened to knocking before entering a room?” he asked.

“Aw, come on, Dean,” Charlie said, nudging his shoulder with her own, “I’m not gonna judge you.  Besides, it’s not like it’d be the first time I’ve caught you watching porn.”

Dean groaned and dropped his face to the mattress.  “We’re not supposed to talk about that,” he mumbled into the comforter.

His friend patted his shoulder reassuringly before reaching over to pry his hands away from the lid of his laptop.  “Come ooooonnn, Dean,” she pleaded. “You can show me.”

Reluctantly, Dean let the laptop slide out of his grip.  Charlie’s stubbornness had gotten plenty of things out of him in the past, and he knew she’d get this out of him too, given enough time.  He kept his face firmly pressed into his comforter, cheeks burning, not ready to face his friend’s reaction.

He waited, holding his breath, for her to speak.  But all he heard for a long moment the clicking of a few keys as she scrolled through the page he had open.  Finally, she broke the silence.

“This a good one,” she told him, “I mean, it’s definitely not one of the _best_ out there, but the fanart for it is pretty amazing.”

Dean finally lifted his head up to gape at his friend.  “What?”

Charlie just shrugged, “I watch Dr. Sexy too, you know?  And it’s pretty hard to avoid Piccawang on Tumblr, so I ended up getting into all the fanfiction.”

Dean’s head was suddenly spinning with questions, primarily how the hell did he not know that Charlie was into this stuff too, but somehow the only words that made it out of his mouth were, “What’s a Tumblr?”

* * *

An hour and a half later, Charlie had explained the concepts of followers, reblogging, and tagging, each multiple times over, and Dean thought he’d finally started to get it.  He’d agonized for a good five minutes about his url before going with [myothershipisa67impala](http://myothershipisa67impala.tumblr.com/), which Charlie had rolled her eyes at, but allowed.  Finished with the whole set-up process, the two of them scrolled through Dean’s brand new dashboard, and he discovered a whole new side of this whole Piccawang thing.

Admittedly, most of it was porn (hand drawn or written, but still porn), and it probably would’ve been really awkward to have someone else in the room like this, if Charlie wasn’t so unashamedly excited about their shared interest.  She had been prattling on about subtext and headcanons, when suddenly they scrolled over a couple that is distinctly not female.

“Whoa,” Dean interrupted his friend, “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

Dean reached over to scroll back up to what he’d caught a glimpse of.  It was a rough drawing, but he thought he could make out…

“Is that Dr. Sexy and Dr. Steamy??” he asked, bewildered.

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie noded, “What?  You didn’t know about Stexy?  I mean, they’re bigger than Piccawang, for sure.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said, still unable to pull his eyes away from the drawing, “I can see that.”

Charlie laughed and shoved at his shoulder, “Gross, Dean!”  Suddenly her laughter faded, and she looked like she was about to ask him something when her phone buzzed next to her on the bed.

“Crap!” she said when she looked at the screen, “We were supposed to meet Jo and Benny at the pub twenty minutes ago.  They’re wondering where we are.”  She jumped up from the bed, pulling Dean with her.  “Come on then ,” she said, “you can give me a ride.”

* * *

When they finally made it to the campus pub ten minutes later, Benny and Jo were already a pitcher in.  Charlie volunteered to grab the next one, so Dean settled himself into the booth next to Jo.

“What’s up, Harvelle?” he greeted, nudging her shoulder a little.  She swayed over a little bit, so Dean figured she was probably a little bit tipsy already.

“Deeeeaaaan!” she said, and yep that confirmed it.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at Benny, who was seated across the table.  The other man held his hands up in innocence.

“Don’t look at me, brother.  We split the pitcher half-half.  Not my fault Miss Harvelle here’s a lightweight.”

“Not my fault Benny has a ridiculous tolerance, more like,” Jo grumbled, and Dean just laughed.

Charlie made it back with a pitcher and two more glasses.  “What’d I miss?” she asked.

“Not much,” Dean told her, “Just Benny and Jo and a battle of alcohol tolerance.”

“My money’s on Benny, in that case,” Charlie said.  Jo shot her a look and she just shrugged, taking a sip of her beer before continuing, “What?  I mean, look at him, he’s ginormous.”

“Aw, thanks, Charlie,” Benny chuckled.

“So, besides finishing off an entire pitcher, what were you guys up to before we got here?” Charlie asked.

“Well, I was just sitting here trying to enjoy some beer, but this one,” he said, pointing to Jo, “Wouldn’t stop going on about Dean here and one ‘Coffee Hut Hottie.’”

Dean choked on a sip of beer at that.  Charlie honest to god squeaked, turning wide eyes on Jo.

“WHAT??”

“Oh, yeah,” Jo nodded enthusiastically, glad to have someone interested in her gossip, “Dean and Castiel are all buddy-buddy now.”

“What?!” Charlie said again, this time turning to Dean. “Is that why you gave him an umbrella earlier?”

“What??” Now Jo was the one squealing.

Charlie rounded on him, then.  “I thought your money was on _Jo_ getting the guy, Dean,” she said, raising an eyebrow pointedly.  “Is there something you want to tell us?”

Dean rubbed a hand down his face and looked to Benny for help, but the other man just sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, amused.

“Oh no, brother,” he said, “I wanna hear you get yourself outta this one.”

Dean rolled his eyes.  “There’s not even anything to get myself out of!” he said, exasperated. “I helped the guy carry some coffees to a meeting a couple of times ‘cause it was on my way.  Big deal.”

Jo narrowed her eyes at him.  “And the umbrella?” she asked.

“It was raining when I went to leave yesterday, and I had forgotten mine at home.  So Cas lent me his.  Whatever.”

“Ooh it’s Cas now, is it?” Charlie said.

Dean dropped his head to the table with a groan.  He heard Benny laughing as Charlie and Jo continued to gossip about him and Castiel and the stupid bet he was really starting to regret making.  It was ridiculous – all of it, really.

Dean was straight, after all.


	7. Chapter 7

This newfound routine continued for a while.  Every other Thursday, Cas came by the hut a second time, and Dean helped him carry coffees to his meeting.  And every other Friday night, Jo and Charlie harassed him over a pitcher of beer, Benny laughing in the background.  Dean would try to hide his blush and adamantly defend his heterosexuality, to no avail.  It was still embarrassing and obnoxious, but there was a familiarity to the routine that Dean was starting to settle into.

Which made it even more jarring when everything changed.

He’d been getting farther and farther into the world of fanfiction, even reading the occasional completely sex-free story.  He’d also developed a slight addiction to Tumblr (which he blamed Charlie for every chance he got), so it wasn’t surprising when one Tuesday morning, the week after midterms, he started reading an interesting story someone had posted.

He was halfway through the first chapter before he realized that it was a Stexy fic, and Piccawang was merely a background story.  Intrigued by the plotline, he decided to keep reading.

Five hours later and Dean had read through a whirlwind of sexuality crises, angst, and some very explicit man-on-man sex.

He’d also completely forgotten about his night class, and was going to be late if he didn’t hurry.

Dean swore as he slammed his laptop shut and grabbed his bag, rushing out the door.

He managed to make it to class on time, but he wasn’t paying any attention to the lecture.  His mind was still all wrapped up in the story he had just read.  It was strange.  The plotline had been so similar to many of the Piccawang fics, and yet so different.  Different because, this time around, he had found himself relating to the characters, Dr. Sexy in particular.

In the fic, Dr. Sexy had been the ultimate straight-guy ladies man.  And then Dr. Steamy had come into his life.  The other doctors had teased him relentlessly about his new man-crush, not meaning anything by it, not knowing how it affected the man.  How it caused him to question his own feelings, his own sexuality even.  The process had been painful to read, despite the happy ending.

 _Damn_ , Dean thought, _I’m glad I never had to deal with anything like that._   His friends teased him about the whole Cas thing, sure, but he was completely, one-hundred percent _positive_ he was straight.

And then, suddenly, he wasn’t.

Suddenly there was a question floating around in his mind: _how do I know_ I’m _not bi?_

* * *

And so began one of the most confusing and mentally exhausting weeks of Dean Winchester’s life.

The question was on an endless loop inside his head, _am I bi am I bi am I bi_.  And the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

He’d always looked at other guys, sure, but that was just what dudes did, wasn’t it?  Whenever he looked at certain features on a guy, it wasn’t because he liked them, it was because he wanted to _be_ like them…right?

And sure, maybe he’d found himself focusing more on the guy than the girl a few times when he’d been watching porn over the years, but that was just because it was sex, and sex was always hot no matter what.

The more Dean considered it, the less everything seemed to make sense.  He wished he could just know one way or the other, but of course it couldn’t be that simple.  He didn’t know what it felt like to be bisexual, but at this point he wasn’t sure he knew what it felt like to be straight either.

He was driving himself insane.

* * *

Dean spent the whole week in a fog, trying to sort out his feelings, but nothing was resolving itself.

When he was so distracted that he nearly walked into a women’s restroom on Saturday, Dean decided he’d had enough, and he needed to do more to figure all this out.

Which is how he ended up spending the rest of his weekend consulting the internet.

He Googled everything he could think of, _bisexuality_ , _bisexuality vs heterosexuality_ , _bi versus straight_ , even _how do I know if I’m bi?_ , but nothing helped.

So he tried watching some porn.

He started out with some of his usual stuff: one guy, one girl, nothing fancy.  And yeah, that did the trick.  But he couldn’t figure out whether it’s the guy or the girl that was doing it for him…or both.

Next, he pulled up some girl-on-girl stuff, only to find that, yep, he was still good and interested.  He gave himself a few minutes to calm down before he moved on to the final step.

The first few gay porn sites he pulled up were startling to say the least, because, seriously, some of the stuff was just ridiculous.  But then he stumbled upon a website that featured just two seemingly average guys going at it at different places in their house.  Feeling only slightly less apprehensive, he clicked on one of the videos.

And fuck, that worked for him too.

His dick seemed to be telling him that, yes, he was interested in both men and women, but his brain was still spinning in circles.

How the hell could he have never realized this before?  Why was he still so full of doubt?  Was there any way to know, for sure, any way to confirm his sexuality?  The questions kept popping up in his mind until he felt like his head was going to explode.

He decided it was time to bring in the big guns.  He was going to have to talk to Charlie.

* * *

He headed straight over to her apartment after work on Monday, wasting no time in bounding up the steps and banging on the door.

He was greeted by a rather spectacular case of bright red bedhead, and one of the scariest death glares he had ever received.

“What the hell do you want?” Charlie grumbled.

“I –,” Dean couldn’t help but hesitate. “I really need to talk to you.”

His friend must have been able to read the panic in his eyes, because she opened the door wider and lead him inside.

“I’m gonna need coffee for this.”

* * *

An hour and two cups of coffee later, Charlie was fully awake and focused intently on Dean’s retelling of his past week.  When he finally finished, looking at her expectantly for an answer, she let out a long sigh.

“Geez, Dean, that’s some crazy shit right there.  How did you even start thinking about this?”

Dean mumbled something unintelligible.

“What.”

Dean sighed, running a hand down his face. “I said, Stexy fanfiction.”

Charlie couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.  “Yeah,” she said, “That’ll do it.”

“This isn’t funny, Charlie!” Dean said. “I’m freaking out here and I don’t know what to do!”

She sobered instantly.  “I know, Dean,” she reassured him. “I’m just not sure what to tell you.  I mean, yeah, some of the stuff you’re telling me sounds pretty similar to what I went through when I started to figure out the whole I-like-girls thing, but I can’t tell you how you feel.  And I would tell you that you don’t really _need_ to put a label on it, you know?  But I know that’s not gonna make you feel any better.”

She stopped and rested her chin on her hand, gaze turned up towards the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, before she grinned and turned back to Dean.

“Let me put it this way,” she said. “When I figured everything out for myself, I came to one conclusion: I would much rather eat a vagina than suck a dick.  What about you, Winchester?”

Dean stared at her in shock for a moment, and then he burst into laughter.

When he finally calmed down enough to speak, his next words were quiet.

“I think,” he said, hesitantly, “I think I could see myself doing both.”

Charlie smiled at him fondly, patting his hand where it sits on the table.

“Then I think you have your answer.”

* * *

Dean went to Benny next.  The conversation with Charlie helped a lot, but he still wasn’t sure about the whole thing.  He figured he’d gotten his gay best friend’s answer, so he might as well ask the straight one.

He called Benny up on Wednesday after work and asked if they could go for a drive.  Benny agreed, and six pm that evening found them sliding into the Impala and heading out on a long stretch of road.

Dean drove in silence for a while, mind twisting and turning, unsure of how to broach the subject.  Thankfully, Benny spoke up first.

“What’s going on, brother?” he asked.

It was a simple question, but it was also so much more than that.  Dean swallowed nervously before he answered.

“I think –” Dean’s voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “I think I might be bi.”

Silence prevailed in the car for a few moments, during which Dean couldn’t find it in himself to look over at his friend, too worried about the expression he might find on his face.

But Benny was as non-judgmental as ever and simply asked, “What makes you think that?”

And so Dean retold his entire story, listed all the reasons he thought he might be into guys, and explained to Benny just how confusing the whole week had been, his friend listening patiently the entire time.

When he finally finished, Benny sat in contemplative silence for a few seconds before he spoke.

“Wow, Dean, that’s a mighty confusing situation you’ve got going on,” he said.

Dean groaned.  “Tell me about it.”

“Look,” Benny continued, “I can’t tell you for sure what’s going on here, but it sounds to me like you’re leaning towards this whole bisexual thing, but you don’t want to let yourself actually admit it.  There a reason for that?”

Dean nodded, of course Benny saw right through him.  “It’s just that,” he explained, “I don’t want to say I’m bi, only to have it turn out to be a mistake, you know?  Like what if I’m just doing this because I’m lonely or some bullshit, what will people think of me then?”

“Whoa there,” Benny said. “I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself there.  For one thing, why the hell would you put yourself through all this just for attention?  I’ll tell you now that you wouldn’t, so stop worrying about all that.  And secondly, who cares what other people think?  You know me and the rest of the crew will always be here to support you, no matter what.”

Dean was touched by the sincerity in the other man’s words, finally turning to look at his friend.

“Thanks, man,” he said. “That means a lot.  Really.”

Benny just nodded at him as Dean swung the car around and headed back towards home.

* * *

Dean spoke up again when they were about twenty minutes away from campus.  There was something he told Charlie that he had left out when he had confessed everything to Benny, and it had been eating at him for the entire drive.

He cleared his throat, but no words followed.

“What’s up?” Benny asked from the passenger seat, concerned.

“I, uh, I left out a bit of the story,” Dean explained, eyes focusing hard on the road in front of him, searching for some sort of distraction.  Why did he think this was a good idea?  Of course he had told Charlie, but Charlie was open and unashamed about these kinds of things.  Benny was a whole different story.

“Well, let’s hear it then,” Benny said.

And that was it.  Suddenly Dean found himself telling his friend all about his little “porn test,” cheeks flaming all the while.

When Dean finally finished his story, Benny let out a chuckle that soon erupted into deep echoing laughter.

After he finally calmed down enough to breathe and wipe away a few tears that had rolled down his cheeks, Benny leaned over towards Dean.

“Brother,” he said, “You’re bi.”

At that point, Dean couldn’t help but agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to the brilliant advice-giver, [phanesphenom](phanesphenom.tumblr.com), for being the real life inspiration behind my favorite quote of this chapter :).


	8. Chapter 8

Dean had thought that coming to a conclusion about his sexuality would be it, that it would clear up all the thoughts running through his head so that he could go about his business in peace.  It didn’t.  Instead, he found himself in a whole new jumble of confusion as his outlook towards the guys around him started to change.

It was true that Dean had always looked at other guys, but he had never before thought about it as checking them out.  Now, it was all he could think.

He found himself sizing up every male he walked by on campus, or served at the Coffee Hut, analyzing how they looked at him and how he looked at them.  Where they checking him out, or just looking him over?  Was he doing the same to them?  What he thought would be a reprieve from the confused jumble of thoughts inside his head seemed to only twist them further.

And it only got worse when Cas came by.

Dean hadn’t really talked to the guy at all since his big realization.  The girls at the hut all seemed to have stepped up their flirting game, and took up most of the other man’s attention every morning when he came to the hut.  The most contact they’d had was when Dean had pulled a face or shot Cas a sympathetic smile over one of his coworkers shoulders, but Cas had always flashed him a smile in return.

Thursday, however, found Dean yet again alone at the register when Castiel came up for his second coffee stop.

“Hey, Cas,” he said when he noticed the other man approaching, and _damn_ , had his eyes always been that blue?

“Hello, Dean.”

“What’s on the list for today?” Dean asked, totally not staring at Cas’s hands as the other man retrieved the list from his bag, unfolding it with long, graceful fingers.

Dean shook himself out of it as Cas read off the order of the day, telling himself that this was just what he had been doing all week, checking customers out here and there, and reminding himself that there was nothing wrong with it.

Still, when Castiel’s hand brushed his as he paid, Dean found himself more flustered than usual.

He tried to clear his mind as he set to work on the other man’s extensive drink order, rhythm thrown off as he got lost in his own thoughts.  Why was he so affected?  I mean yeah, Cas was hot, but that’d never thrown him off before.  Holy shit, he thought Cas was hot.  What the hell was he going to—

“Dean,” Cas’s voice yanked the barista out of his runaway train of thought, “Are you…singing Metallica?”

“Was I?” Dean said, realizing he must have been, as a way of trying to combat the chaos of his thoughts.  He tried to sound calm about it, even as he felt a blush rise to his face. “Sorry about that, man.”

“Don’t be,” Cas said with a chuckle. “You have a really lovely voice, Dean.”

Dean blushed even harder at that, ducking back behind the espresso machine with a muttered, “thanks” as his thoughts spun out of control once again.

Was Cas flirting with him?  Did that mean Cas was interested in him, like Charlie had suspected?  Had they been flirting before this?  Did he _want_ to flirt with Cas?

These questions hounded him as he finished the man’s drinks, as he clocked out of work, and even as he picked up a couple of coffee cups and followed Castiel away from the Coffee Hut.  So far, the only question he was able to answer was yes, he did want to flirt with Cas.  He just had no idea how to actually go about it.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas suddenly asked, breaking the drawn out silence.

“Huh?” Dean said, shaking his head to try and clear his thoughts and bring himself back to reality. “Yeah, man, sorry.  I just have a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Cas asked.

“How ‘bout you distract me with one of your awesome history lessons there, teach,” Dean deflected with a smile and a wink, and then nearly started hyperventilating because holy crap he was flirting with Cas (or trying to at least).

Thankfully, Cas just laughed and launched into some story about a fish.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, the tempest that was Dean’s brain finally calmed.  He started to adjust to the whole being attracted to men thing, and slowly his sexuality faded from being the focus of his life.  The only thing that seemed to be able to send his brain spinning back into confusion was Castiel.

Every time he came by the Hut, he sent Dean’s stomach into knots.  It didn’t help that now he made more of an effort to at least say hello to the barista, despite the distraction of his coworkers.

Dean tried to respond as casually as possible, head nods and friendly smiles, but the other man had him incredibly flustered, and increasingly frustrated.

He could admit that he was attracted to Cas, and that was fine.  But he hated that that attraction seemed to have turned him into an awkward teenager.  He told himself that if flirting with girls was practically second nature to him, he could totally handle one guy.  Now he just had to actually go for it.

So he started out slow, figuring baby steps were the best way to go, testing the waters and see if Cas was really interested.  Dean had no idea how to read other guys; it was never a skill he had had to develop.  Still, he started getting a little bit braver in his interactions with Cas, a bigger smile here, holding his gaze a little longer there, and he found that the small things came pretty easily.

Talking to Cas, however, was much more difficult.  Dean kept finding himself at a loss for words, or stumbling over the ones he did say.  Luckily, Cas was content to spend their trips across campus telling Dean all about random history facts, and Dean was more than happy to listen and hope his nonverbal signals would at least be enough to let Castiel know he was interested.

As it turned out, right around spring break, they were.

It had been a fairly typical Thursday at the Hut.  Cas had come by early in the morning with a quick “Hello, Dean,” that had earned the barista curious stares from both of his female coworkers.  When Cas came back, however, he looked more flustered than Dean had ever seen him, hair resisting its neatly gelled style, tie completely missing.

“Whoa there, Cas,” Dean said as the other man made a hurried approach to the Hut, “You okay there?”

Cas looked up at Dean in surprise, as though he hadn’t realized his stress was obvious.  “I’m fine, Dean,” he answered, even as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just been a very long day.”

“Sucks, man,” Dean said. “Well I’ll get your coffees up extra fast so you can get through your meeting and get today over with, okay?”

The other man just smiled gratefully before reading out his list of orders and paying.  He stood off to the side in silence as Dean set about making his coffees as quickly as he could.  He did take the time, however, to add some extra whipped cream and chocolate syrup to Castiel’s usual cinnamon hot chocolate.

Soon enough, he was clocked out and walking Cas and his coffees away from the Hut.

They walked in silence for a bit, Cas continuing to look more and more frazzled, until Dean’s curiosity finally got the best of him.

“So what’s up man?” he asked. “You look a bit…out of sorts.”

The other man looked down at himself and seemed to realize for the first time that he wasn’t as impeccably dressed as he usually was.

Dean laughed at the horrified expression on his face.  “It’s okay man,” he said, blatantly looking Cas up and down before continuing. “The whole nutty professor look kindof suits you, actually”

Cas smiled at the comment and then sighed.  “It’s just this paper I’m working on,” he explained. “I didn’t think I could ever dislike history, but right now…” he trailed off with another frustrated sigh.

“Well shit, man,” Dean said, and then an idea occurred to him.  “Tell you what,” he offered, “Since you’re all burnt out on history today, how about I give you a lesson on _my_ area of expertise.”

Castiel turned to him, expression slowly shifting from exhausted to intrigued.  “And what would that be?” he asked.

“Well, Cas,” Dean said, knocking his shoulder gently into the other man’s, “let me tell you about my Baby…”

* * *

As Dean went on and on about his car, he watched Cas relax bit by bit, happy to be able to help the other man take his mind off of things.  He eventually wrapped up his ramblings about the Impala, and turned back to Castiel, expecting to find the other man bored to death.  Instead, he was surprised to find the other man staring at him attentively.  They were currently in the elevator on the way up to Cas’s office, so there wasn’t anything to look at as an excuse to pull away from the other man’s gaze.  He fidgeted a bit under the weight of the that stare, clearing his throat before speaking.

“So anyways,” he said, “That’s the Dean Winchester lesson of the day.  Hopefully it gave your brain a break from all your history stuff.”

Cas smiled at that, nodding as they exited the elevator and headed into his office, “It did, Dean.  Thank you.”

He sounded so sincere that Dean had no idea how to respond.  So he just set the coffees he was carrying onto Cas’s desk and clapped a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“Anytime, man,” he said before turning and heading for the door, but a hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Dean,” Cas said hesitantly, still holding onto his wrist, albeit loosely, “Would you—would you like to have dinner sometime?”

It took Dean a minute to hear the question, focused as he was on the way the warmth from Cas’s palm was seeping into his skin.  When he did, he couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

“Yeah, Cas,” he said. “I’d like that.”

Castiel returned his smile then, dropping his wrist to grab a slip of paper and scribble something down before pressing it into Dean’s palm.

“Call me?”

Dean just nodded, pocketing the slip of paper before turning to head out again.

“Talk to you later, Cas,” he said just before he turned into the hallway.

“I look forward to it, Dean,” came the other man’s soft reply.

It didn’t really hit Dean what had just happened until he was in the elevator, and then realization slammed into him all at once.

Holy shit.  He had a date with a guy.  He had a date with _Cas_.

His brain ran through all this information, and then Dean proceeded to freak out.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean continued to panic as he walked to his car, as he drove home, and as he walked up to his apartment.  It wasn’t until a few hours later, when he actually started pacing around his room, that he realized how ridiculous he was being.

Any other person, Dean told himself, anyone else, and he would have already sent off a flirty text message.  But this guy asks him out and suddenly he’s a nervous wreck.  He didn’t know if it was because he was a dude, or if it was just because he was _Cas_ , but either way, he told himself, he needed to get over it and just text the guy.

So he pulled out his phone, flopped down onto his bed, and proceeded to take entirely too long to type out a two word text message.

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> > Hey cas_

Dean read the message five times before sending it, then he read it again and realized he hadn’t even said the message was from him.

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> > This is dean by the way.  Dean winchester_

_Smooth_ , Dean told himself, barely resisting the urge to fling his phone – and the embarrassing messages – across his room.

He was so worked up about the whole thing that he actually jumped when his phone buzzed in his hand.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< < I figured it was you, Dean.  How was the rest of your day?_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> >  Pretty good.  Not much going on.  Hows the history treating you?_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< <  Not too badly at the moment, actually.  Thank you for helping me get my mind off of it earlier._

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> >  Anytime man :)_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< <  So, about dinner – would this weekend be too soon? _

Dean smiled as he typed out a response.  He was glad to know he wasn’t the only one excited about this date, although he doubted Cas was as much as a nervous wreck as he was.

Still, as they continued to make plans for the weekend, Dean could feel himself relaxing more and more.   After they said goodbye for the night, he relaxed on his bed and fell easily into sleep, phone clutched tightly to his chest.

* * *

Saturday afternoon found Dean freaking out yet again, as he tried to decide what to wear on his date with Cas.

He had tried on shirt after shirt, scrutinizing several t-shirt and overshirt combinations before settling on his favorite worn black graphic tee and a grayish-blue button down.

He then proceeded to make himself feel absolutely ridiculous as he spent a half-hour just picking out what jewelry he wanted to wear.  Normally on weekends and holidays, he just stuck in whatever earrings he had on hand, too busy to pick out individual pieces for each of his eleven piercings, but tonight he felt the need to put a little more thought into it.

He ended up with black rings through the two piercings in the cartilage of his right ear, silver spikes through the five on his left, and silver barbells through his left diath and right tragus.  He stuck in a silver nose ring and another silver barbell through his lip and, finally, he was ready to go.

Castiel had suggested they meet at The Barn, the bar and grill just off campus.  They had planned to be there around seven, but in his nervousness Dean managed to get there fifteen minutes early.  He took a moment to take a few deep breaths in the calm of his car before telling himself to get over it and heading inside to get a table.  Once he was seated, he fiddled with one of the napkins (paper, not cloth – thank _god_ ) and waited for Castiel to show.

Twenty minutes later, Castiel was nowhere to be seen and Dean was halfway to being a nervous wreck.  He kept trying to tell himself that the other man was five minutes late, and that wasn’t even a big deal.  Hell, he showed up that late to most places.  Still, logic didn’t seem to be enough to ease his worries.

He was just pulling out his phone to text Cas when the man in question rushed through the door, quickly spotting Dean and hurrying over to the table.

“I am _so_ sorry,” he said as he slid into the booth across from Dean. “One of the other TAs called in sick, so I had to go cover her review session, and it was supposed to be over at six-thirty, but then one of the students had a ridiculous amount of questions about the test, and—“

“Whoa,” Dean said, holding back a chuckle at the other man’s out of breath rambling, “Cas, it’s okay, man.  You’re not even that late.  Don’t worry about it.”

Cas stared down at himself, a tiny pout on his face.  “I didn’t even have time to change,” he muttered.

Dean couldn’t help the laugh he let out at that one.  Cas was dressed in his usual white button down, black slacks, and blue tie – now slightly askew.  Dean thought he looked just fine, so he told him as much.  “I like the nutty professor look, anyway,” he joked.

Castiel smiled at that.  “Yeah?” he asked, looking up at Dean for the first time since he sat down and freezing, eyes wide.  “Oh,” he said, surprised, “You have piercings.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said nervously.  Of course Castiel didn’t know about the piercings, he always took ‘em out or wore retainers at work.  But he hadn’t considered that Castiel might not like them, and now it was all he could think about. He resisted the urge to tug at the metal in question in his nervousness. “Is that…a problem?” he asked.

Cas just tilted his head, narrowing his eyes a bit in confusion.  “Why would that be a problem?”

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugged, “People like you don’t tend to be huge fans of that kind of stuff sometimes.”

“People like me,” Cas repeated carefully.

Dean realized his words might have been offensive, and tried his best to backtrack. “You know,” he stammered out, gesturing to Castiel’s whole outfit, “Intellectuals or, uh, buttoned-up academic types.”  He realized that sounded even worse and sucked in a breath, preparing for Castiel to yell at him or, worse, leave.

To his surprise, the other man just chuckled and reached up to take off his tie and unbutton the collar of his shirt.

“You know,” he said, hands moving to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves, “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Dean.”  He rolled up his sleeves than, revealing an expanse of dark ink covering the tan skin of his arms.  He smirked up at Dean then, “At least, not until you’ve seen the whole thing.”

Dean gaped at the beautiful artwork in front of him, mind whirling as he added this new piece of information to what he already knew about Cas.  He struggled to come up with an appropriate response, and shocked himself when he smirked right back at Cas and said, “So, does that mean I’m gonna get to see the whole thing?”

Castiel laughed outright then, a wonderfully deep sound, and just like that the awkward tension between them was broken.

The conversation flowed effortlessly into a discussion of their respective body decorations.  Dean learned that Castiel had started getting tattoos right when he turned eighteen, at a shop right next to the college. He told Dean about his tattoo artist, a woman named Linda Tran, a tiny but tough woman covered shoulders-to-ankles in tattoos.  Over the years, he had become good friends with her and her son Kevin, the shops resident piercer.  He explained that he only had his arms done at this point, but was hoping to get a large back piece when he had the time (and money).  The ink he _did_ have consisted of twisting lines and some of his favorite historical quotes, he informed Dean.

In return, Dean told Cas how he his first piercing was actually done by Jo, in his dorm room the first week of freshman year.  After a late-night discussion about how much both of them wanted piercings, she had taken a safety pin to the cartilage of his right ear.  Dean laughed as he explained to Cas that it had hurt like a bitch, and he’d had a safety pin hanging off of his ear for the next two weeks, until he could put in a proper ring.  He hadn’t had the guts to pierce Jo in return, something she still teased him about four years later.

From there the conversation moved on to friends and family as they talked over their food – identical orders of bacon cheeseburgers that made Dean like Cas all that much more.  They talked about anything and everything, learning more and more about each other until they looked around and saw that the restaurant was nearly empty, and realized they had talked for hours.

They paid and headed out to the parking lot, Castiel walking Dean over to his car.

“So this is the legendary ‘Baby,’ then?” he asked.

“The one and only,” Dean announced, sweeping an arm out toward the shiny black beast. “You should come for a ride in her sometime, Cas.”

 “I’d like that, Dean.  But for now, I should probably be heading home.”

“Oh yeah, of course, man.  Well, I had an awesome time tonight,” Dean said, immediately kicking himself for using such a clichéd line.

But Castiel just smiled at him.  “Me too,” he said, taking a calculated step into Dean’s personal space.  And even though he knew what was going to happen, Dean couldn’t help but be surprised as Cas leaned in and kissed him, a quick but soft touch of lips.  He straightened up after a moment, uttering a quiet, “Goodnight, Dean,” before he turned and walked over to his car, leaving Dean staring after him in shock.

Eventually he managed to shake himself out of it and slid into the Impala, the only thought on his mind _yeah, I’m definitely into guys_.

* * *

A feeling of content settled over Dean in the wake of his confirmation that, yes, he was in fact attracted to men. Even the chaos of midterms and rushes of students at the Coffee Hut desperate for study fuel couldn’t shake Dean out of his happy mood.  His coworkers grumbled at him for being so cheery, but he couldn’t help it.  And Cas’s daily visits to the Hut, no matter how brief, always made him smile just that much more.

He didn’t get to actually speak to the man all week, as he did have to study, and Cas didn’t have a meeting to get to that Thursday, but the two of them still managed to text each other whenever they had a moment.  It was always little things, just a “hey how are you” here and a “how’s your day going” there, and the occasional funny story from one of their days, but Dean found a grin on his face every time his phone buzzed in his pocket.

On Friday, he got home from his last final and collapsed onto the couch in his apartment.  His roommates had left for Spring Break already, but Dean wasn’t planning on heading out until Sunday, instead taking some time to enjoy the peace and quiet of his apartment.  He grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV, pulling his phone out at the same time.

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> >  Tgif man.  I’m finally fucking done_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< <  Congratulations, Dean.  How did your last final go?_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> >  Eh I think it went okay.  I’m not gonna worry about it now anyways.  Its spring break!_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< <  It is.  Finally.  I’m looking forward to having a week off._

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> >  Me too man.  So what are you up to then?_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< <  Just watching some television.  My brain’s too exhausted to do anything else._

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> >  Haha yeah I hear ya there.  Whatre you watching?_

_From:  Castiel Novak_

_< <  I’m not sure.  I thought it was a medical documentary, but all these people seem to do is have sex in closets._

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> >  Dude are you watching Dr. Sexy???_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< <  I think so.  Dean, I don’t understand this show.                                      _

Dean laughed out loud at Cas’s last message.  After a moment of consideration, he forwent typing out an answer, deciding to call Castiel instead.  The other man picked up on the first ring.

“Dean?” Cas answered, sounding confused.

“I know it’s spring break and all, Dean said without preamble, “but I think you really need a lesson on the world of Dr. Sexy, M.D.”

He could hear Cas’s smile when the other man spoke again.  “By all means,” he said, “go ahead.”

After finding the same channel on his TV and noting what episode Cas was watching, Dean proceeded to outline the storyline of the show, talking Cas through each character’s backstory as they watched.  Cas listened attentively to both Dean and the show, asking questions now and again when the plotline took a more complicated twist.  Dean’s enthusiasm grew as he spoke, eventually sharing some extra fan theories about the show and then apologizing to Castiel for going a little bit “fanboy” on him.

“It’s not a problem, Dean,” Castiel said. “I find your enthusiasm quite...contagious.”

Dean smiled into the phone at that, launching right back into his theories.

Eventually, Dean ran out of things to say, but the two men continued to watch the marathon, content to share each other’s company over the phone as they laughed at some points and complained about the ridiculousness of others.

It wasn’t until the marathon ended that Cas and Dean realized they had been on the phone with each other for hours.

“Shit, man,” Dean said, realizing just how late it was, “I’m supposed to meet some friends in like, twenty minutes.”  His little group was having a celebratory round of drinks at the pub before they all headed off to their respective homes for the break.

“Oh,” Cas said on the other line, sounding a bit guilty, “I’m sorry to have distracted you.”

“Nah, man,” Dean reassured him, “Don’t even worry about it.  This was fun.”  When he heard the other man hesitate to speak, he pressed on, “Cas, really, don’t worry about it.  Seriously, this has been awesome.”

There’s another beat of silence, but when Cas spoke again, Dean could tell he was smiling.

“Seriously?” Cas asked, the overused line from Dr. Sexy rolling wryly off his tongue.

It was a good few minutes before Dean could respond, overcome as he was by laughter.

He was still grinning when he finally answered.

“Yeah, Cas.  Seriously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone's curious, a couple of the quotes incorporated into Cas's tattoos are:  
> "In order for light to shine brightly, darkness must be present" - Francis Bacon  
> "To one who has faith, no explanation is necessary. To one without faith, no explanation is possible." - Thomas Aquinas  
> Thanks again to my history nerd beta [supernaturallynoble](supernaturallynoble.tumblr.com) for the help!


	10. Chapter 10

Dean drove home Sunday morning with the windows down, music blasting, and a smile on his face.

Cas had come over the night before to watch more Dr. Sexy, evidently now hooked on the show (to Dean’s delight).  They’d ordered pizza and ate as they watched, side by side on Dean’s beat-up sofa.  Dean was happy to discover that Cas seemed to want to take things slow, not going any farther than a few heated open-mouthed kisses (which he discovered he really liked).  Still, the two of them had managed to fall asleep around midnight, curled around each other on the couch, not waking until early that morning.  Castiel had given Dean a kiss goodbye, and Dean couldn’t think of a better start to a road trip home.

As he parked the Impala in his parents’ driveway, he took the time to pull out his phone and send Cas a text that he had made it home safe and sound, smiling at the other man’s response of _Good to know.  I had a wonderful time last night, Dean_ ,before grabbing his stuff and lugging it up the steps to his parents’ front door.

He let himself in and was quickly enveloped in his mother’s arms, watching over her shoulder as his brother thundered down the steps to greet him.  As he walked over, Dean realized that his brother had finally grown taller than him.

“Holy crap, Samsquatch,” he said. “What the hell have they been feeding you?”

“Dean,” Mary chided, giving him a pointed look as she pulled away, “Language.”

“Aw he’s just jealous, Ma,” Sam said, wandering over to rest an arm on Dean’s shoulder and look down at him.

“Jealous, my ass,” Dean said, taking advantage of Sam’s position to elbow him in the stomach.

The younger boy doubled over, more out of surprise than pain, a soft “oof” escaping him as he did.

“Good to see you too, Sammy,” Dean grinned, patting his brother on the shoulder as he shouldered his bag and made his way to his room.  Damn, it was good to be home.

* * *

The next few days were awesome.  Full of home cooked meals and hanging out with his family.  As much as Dean loved his friends and his life at school, he always missed being here, hanging out with Sammy, working on the car with his dad, and baking with his mom.  It made him happy to fall back into the old routine.

Of course, he also spent a good amount of his time texting Cas.  The other man had also gone home for the break, and spent his time texting Dean about the ridiculous antics of his siblings.

_From: Castiel Novak_

_> > [photo enclosed]  My brother Gabriel made dinner._

_To: Castiel Novak_

_< <  Dude what in the hell is that??_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_> > He’s calling it “Just Desserts.”_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_> > I think I’m going to go out for food._

In return, Dean kept Cas up to date on the goings on at the Winchester house.

_To: Castiel Novak_

_< <  [photo enclosed]  Sams kicking my ass on left 4 dead_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_< <  I’m gonna put nair in his shampoo_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_> >  That seems a bit excessive._

_To: Castiel Novak_

_< <  Eh.  Kid needs a haircut anyways_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_< <  [photo enclosed] Seriously.  Look at that mop_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_> >  Dean._

_To: Castiel Novak_

_< <  Okay fine_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_< <  I put hair dye instead.  And before you say anything don’t worry its only temporary_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_< <  [photo enclosed] I’m calling him the jolly green giant_

* * *

All in all, Dean’s spring break was going great.  He found himself going about his days smiling for no reason, and everyone else seemed to notice.

His parents kept asking him what had him so upbeat, and each time Dean just responded that he was just happy to be home.  He wasn’t ready to tell them about his whole sexuality revelation, or Cas, just yet.

Still, each time they asked, he felt a little bit guiltier about it.  Lying, even by omission, was not something Dean did to his family.

By the Thursday of break, Dean decided he couldn’t do it anymore.  Lying awake that night, staring up at the ceiling, he decided he would start out slowly and tell Sam.

* * *

Friday afternoon, John was at work and Mary had run out to the store, so Dean decided to take advantage of the parent-free house and talk to Sammy.  He wandered into his brother’s room to find him lounging on his bed, nose in a book.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said cautiously, waiting for his brother to look up before he continued. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Sam sighed.  He was clearly annoyed at being ripped away from his book, but he sat up and patted the bed beside him anyways.  “What’s up, Dean?” he asked.

Dean sat down next to his brother, but was unable to stop himself from fidgeting nervously, tugging at his ear piercings and flipping his lip ring around with his tongue.

Sam, well versed in the unspoken language of Dean Winchester, started to look concerned.  “Seriously, Dean,” he said, “what’s going on, man?”

Dean sucked in a breath.  He had planned out what to say in his head, but actually forcing the words out in real life was proving difficult.  Instead of the fluid and concise sentence he had come up with, a stuttering admission made its way from his lips.  “Well, uh, some stuff happened at school and, uh, I kindof realized that – fuck this is hard.  Um, I’m bi?” Dean said, cursing himself for making that last part into a question.  “I’m bi, Sammy,” he repeated, firmer this time.

Sam just stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed as he scanned his older brother’s face.  Then, to Dean’s horror, he started laughing.

“Yeah, okay, Dean,” he said, reaching for his book again. “You’re bi.  Ladies man Dean Winchester secretly likes dudes too.  Good one.”

Hurt and anger warred in Dean’s chest, and he snatched the book from his brother, setting it on the bed behind him.

“I’m serious, Sam,” he said, anger evident in his voice. “Why the hell would I lie about that?”

“Okay, fine,” Sam said, voice tense. “Maybe you’re not lying-”

“ _Thank_ you.”

“-but you’re not actually bi, Dean.”

“What?”

“Come on, man,” Sam said in an almost condescending tone, as if he were explaining something to a child, “If you were actually bi, don’t you think you’d have known before now?  Maybe you’re just lonely, man, I don’t know.  I mean, I know you haven’t been with any girls at school recently, but that doesn’t mean you have to go for guys.  Even if you do want to, it’s probably just a phase.”

Dean wanted to argue, he did, but then all his prior doubts flooded back in, and he wondered if maybe Sam was right.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “Thanks, man.”

Sam gave him a slight smile, reaching for his book again, mind already back in his fictional world as he muttered out an, “Uh-huh.”

Dean walked out and into his own room, mind reeling.

Of course Sam was right.  After all, who knew him better than his own family?  And he had thought the same thing before, right?  That this was just a phase, just some side effect of him not meeting any girls recently and being lonely, starved for attention.

_But what about Cas?_ his brain prompted.  That was a good point.  He was attracted to Cas, and enjoyed spending time with the other man, texting him.

_Of course you do_ , he reasoned with himself, _when you’re lonely_ any _attention is welcome_.  _Sam’s right…it’s just a phase._

_And if it’s just a phase_ , Dean thought, _that means it’ll pass sometime soon_ , which meant he’d be leading Cas on in the meantime.  And he couldn’t do that to the guy.

He made up his mind that whatever this thing was between him and Cas had to end.  He wouldn’t hurt someone just because he was being selfish and lonely.

The next time Castiel texted him, Dean turned off his phone.

Instead of spending the weekend fending off questions of “what’s got you so happy,” Dean found himself under the weight of concerned stares from his parents. He avoided Sam entirely.  Man, he needed to get out of here.

But he was not looking forward to going back to school.


	11. Chapter 11

Work on Monday was…awkward, to say the least.  Dean spent the first part of the morning worrying as he helped to set up the Hut.  He knew Cas would be coming in, as he always did.  The other man had texted him multiple times over the weekend before seemingly giving up around Sunday afternoon, but Dean he knew he’d want some kind of explanation.  The problem was, he couldn’t give him one without his coworkers overhearing, and the last thing he wanted was to drag them into the mess that was his head.  Especially Meg.

So while the clock moved closer to eight-fifteen, and the girls checked their makeup and fought over the prime spot at the register, Dean tried to find a spot to clean that would shield him from view of any customers.  Well, one particular customer, anyway.

As tiny as the Hut was, though, there wasn’t really any place for Dean to hide. So he settled for turning his back fully to the front and scrubbing over-enthusiastically at the back counter.

Luckily for Dean, the girls seemed to have stepped up their flirting game once again, chattering incessantly behind him.  Still, the barista swore he could feel eyes on the back of his head, though he didn’t dare turn around to check.

He didn’t relax until the chatter ceased, and he heard Jo speak behind him.

“Damn,” she muttered, “what was his problem?”

“Who?” Dean tried to ask as nonchalantly as possible, finally turning back to the front of the Hut.

“The Coffee Hut Hottie,” Meg informed him, “I mean, dark and broody is a damn good look on that one, but it gets in the way of poor Joanna Beth’s attempts at flirting.”

“Oh, come on,” Jo protested, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like you were getting anywhere with him either, unless you wanted him to glare at you like that.  Wait, no, scratch that, you probably did.”

Meg made a face at Jo and pushed past her with a huff, moving to restock the shelves out in front of the hut.

Dean took the opportunity to sidle up to Jo at the register.

“Was Cas really that angry?” he asked her.

“He looked like someone ran over his dog or something,” Jo said with a shrug before pausing in her work and turning towards Dean and teasing, “Why?  You worried about your boyfriend there, Winchester?”

Steadfastly ignoring the tiny voice in his head that shouted _yes_ , Dean slapped on a smirk and nudged his shoulder against Jo’s.

“I’m just worried you’re not gonna win that bet, Harvelle,” he teased, “My money’s on you, after all.”

“I got this in the bag,” Jo tossed back at him. “Don’t even worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Aww you think I’m pretty, Jo?  How sweet,” Dean grinned, batting his eyelashes ridiculously at her.

The resulting friendly scuffle was almost enough to get Dean’s mind off of Cas.

* * *

Wednesday morning was just as awkward as Monday, but without Jo there to cheer him up later.  After watching April and Meg fight for Cas’s attention, Dean spent the rest of his shift in a funk.

He felt terrible for putting Cas through this, and for pissing him off, he really did.  He had spent all of Tuesday staring at his phone, trying to work up the courage to text the other man and explain why they shouldn’t see each other, but the whole thing was just so embarrassing.  How was he so much of a dumbass that he couldn’t figure out his own sexuality?  Or worse, how was he so lonely that he’d felt the need to rearrange his sexuality accordingly?

It was better, Dean figured, to just let Cas think he was an asshole.

It didn’t make it any easier, though.

* * *

Dean had been dreading Thursday afternoon all week, and when it finally rolled around, he was in no way prepared.  He knew Cas would be coming by a second time, just as he did every other Thursday, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it.

Ultimately, he decided that hiding was the best option, and when Jo asked him if he would take over inventory for her in the back, he jumped at the chance to avoid an awkward situation.

Of course, he managed to forget that Cas was always still at the Hut whenever he clocked out.

Dean made his way out of the storeroom just as his shift ended, and walked over to the main part of the Hut to clock out.  Coming in from the back of the small structure, he didn’t notice Cas was still there until he was right in front of him.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas said, his harsh tone making his voice even deeper than usual.

Dean couldn’t help but look up at the other man.  The look on his face must have been the dark, brooding look Meg had described – although Dean would say it was more terrifying than anything – his eyes were narrowed, brows pulled tight together as he stood at the pick-up station surrounded by coffees.  And of course he would be – without Dean to help him, he couldn’t carry his entire order by himself.

“Uh, hey, man,” Dean said, going for nonchalant and failing miserably.  “Look, uh, I have an appointment I have to run to, so I can’t help you carry stuff today.  But, uh, I can see if Benny’ll do it once he clocks in.”

Cas didn’t say anything in return, merely narrowing his eyes further and giving a stiff nod of his head.

Dean clocked out quickly and all but begged Benny to help Cas out.  When his coworker agreed, Dean rushed to get out of there as fast as possible.  He didn’t really have anything to get to, but he _did_ want to get as far away from Cas as quickly as he could.

When he made it to his car, however, he didn’t feel the relief he expected.  Instead, his stomach was in knots, and his head was a jumble of so many emotions he couldn’t even try to pick one out.  He banged his head against the steering wheel a few times before just resting his forehead against it and letting his shoulders slump.

“Fuck.”

* * *

 On Friday morning, Cas didn’t come to the Hut.

Dean tried really hard not to think about it.  He tried even harder to ignore the questioning looks Jo kept shooting his way, only succeeding on the latter.

By the time Dean clocked out, got through his classes, and headed back to his apartment, he was dreading the weekly pub meet up with his friends.  He knew Jo had questions, and he knew she’d have no problem asking them in front of the entire group.

He forgot all about that, however, when he arrived at his apartment to find Cas sitting on his front steps.

“Dean,” the other man said, getting to his feet.

Dean immediately opened his mouth to try to explain, but Cas just held up a hand to cut him off.

“I didn’t come here to cause trouble,” he said. “I just want some sort of…explanation, I guess.”

Cas paused to run a hand through his hair tiredly, and it struck Dean suddenly that the expression on the other man’s face was not so much anger, as he had assumed earlier, but more hurt and confusion instead.

“I don’t understand,” Cas said. “I mean, I thought we were having a good time and that, maybe, there was something here between us.  But then you just disappeared, and I can’t seem to figure out why.”  He had been staring at his shoes, but he turned his gaze to Dean then, asking, “Is it because you’re ashamed of…this, whatever it is?  Because you’re coworkers don’t seem to know anything, but I thought that was just because we were just starting to get to know each other.   But if you’re not out to them, and I did something wrong, then–”

“Whoa, hey, Cas,” Dean cut in.  It hurt him, that Cas thought he would be ashamed of whatever they had, and he figured it was long past time for him to explain.

“Look,” he said, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck and sitting down on the steps before reaching up to pull Cas down with him, “You didn’t do anything wrong, here, okay?  This is all just my messed up problem, and I really didn’t want to bring you into it.”

Cas didn’t say anything, just settled himself on the steps and stared at Dean quizzically, so the other man pressed on.

“So, uh, basically the short version is that I kindof figured out the whole ‘I like dudes’ thing pretty recently – and I was okay with that, I really was – but now I just…I’m not so sure.”

“You’re not sure you’re interested in men, or you’re not sure you’re okay with it?” Cas asked slowly, trying to puzzle out the problem.

“The first one,” Dean admitted, and then suddenly he was spilling the entire story to Cas.  How it hit him one day, that maybe he wasn’t as straight as he had always thought.  How he freaked out for days before he went to Charlie and Benny, and how they helped him to come to the conclusion that he was bisexual.  And then he explained how he had been fine with that, that yeah it was new, but it was something he had adjusted to and life had gone back to pretty much normal.

He told Cas about all his hesitation to flirt with the other man, and how confused and flustered he had been the whole time.  Cas laughed at him then, fondly, and explained how he’d been feeling the same way, not knowing whether or not Dean was interested or what to do about it.

Cas’s smile turned to a frown, though, as Dean continued his story, explaining how he had confided in his brother, and how Sammy’s words had brought all his doubts tumbling right back down.

“I just, what if he’s right, man?” Dean asked as his story wound down, “What if this _is_ just a phase, or me being lonely?  I just thought that, y’know, if we get into something, and then I realize that I’m not bi or whatever, that would really just mess everything up.”

Dean paused for a second, running a hand through his hair before moving his gaze from his feet to the man beside him.  “You’re an awesome guy, Cas,” he said, “and I don’t want to do that to you.”

It took Cas a moment to speak, the silence momentarily stretching out between them, but when he did, his expression was not one of hurt, confusion, or anger, but rather that of calm understanding.

“I get it, Dean, really,” he said, resting a comforting hand on the younger man’s shoulder before letting it drop to rest in his lap and turning to stare out into the dark parking lot in front of them.  “When I came out to my parents,” he explained, “They said much of the same thing to me.  They told me I was just doing it for attention.  I had always been an awkward child – hard to believe, I know,” he joked, huffing an empty laugh. “And my parents told me that just because I had yet to go out with a girl didn’t mean I didn’t like them.  Of course, I had always known that women didn’t interest me, so perhaps it was easier in that respect.”

Dean didn’t say anything, just hummed in understanding before Cas continued. “I think that sometimes the people around us don’t quite understand the impact their words can have, and I understand that this whole thing must be incredibly confusing for you.  But, let me ask you something: men in general aside, are you interested in _me_?”

Dean took a moment, considering, and really, he couldn’t deny that he was interested in Cas.  There was something about the other man that had been pulling him in from the start.

“Yeah,” he said finally, “I am.”

“Well that’s a start,” Cas said, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.

He turned to look at Dean then, waiting to speak until the younger man met his gaze.  “I get that this is obviously a difficult time for you, Dean, and that you’re feeling pressured to put some sort of label on what you feel.  And while I’m tempted to agree with your friends – that no one would willingly put themselves through this struggle just because they’re lonely – I understand your concerns as well.”

Dean opened his mouth to tell Cas that he was really not helping here, but the other man pressed on.

“But the way I see it,” he said gently, “You’re interested in me now, and the feeling is definitely mutual.  I don’t want to pressure you into anything, Dean – especially if you feel you’ve already got enough on your plate – but if you’re willing to see how this, whatever it is, works out between us, then so am I.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, needing the time to process what had been said.

“Can I,” he asked. “Can I think about it?”

Cas nodded.  “Of course, Dean,” he said, squeezing the barista’s shoulder before standing up. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Lost as he was in thought, Dean barely managed a nod in return as Cas turned and walks out into the parking lot.

He sat there for another half hour, alone on the step, wrapped up in his mind and the dark.


	12. Chapter 12

When Dean finally picked himself up off his front step, his first thought was, _I need a drink_.  His second thought was, _No way in hell am I going to the pub_.

He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his coworkers’ friendly teasing tonight, not when it would probably hit way too close to home.  So he headed out of his apartment complex and walked down the street, finally turning into the first bar he came across.  It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was dark and cozy and there was a seat open at the bar, which Dean wasted no time in taking, slouching over the counter as he ordered a beer from the bartender.

If he’d been out in the real world instead of wrapped up in his own head, Dean probably would’ve been flirting with her in an instant – she had on a well-worn black tank top which only just brushed the top of her tight black jeans, just his type– but now he saw her dark hair and blue eyes, and all he could think was that it reminded him of Cas. And honestly, he had no idea what to make of that.

He sighed heavily into his beer, taking a long swallow.

“Rough night there, sweetheart?” the bartender asked him.

He grunted out an affirmative before downing another good bit of his beer.

“What’s wrong?  Girl trouble?” she paused before continuing. “Boy trouble, maybe?”

Dean’s head snapped up at that one.  “Do I…do I look like someone who’d be having boy trouble?” he asked.

“Oh, honey,” the bartender answered, “nobody _looks_ like anything.  But you do seem like you’ve got something on your mind that you want to get off of it.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered, taking another healthy sip of beer.

“Then tell me,” she said, leaning her elbows onto the bar in front of him.  She said it like a challenge, somehow, this woman Dean didn’t even know, staring him down over the top of a bar he’d never been to before.  And, for whatever reason, he found himself meeting it, the story pouring out of his mouth for the second time that night.

To Dean’s surprise, the bartender listened patiently to all of it, waiting until he rambled all the way to end of his tale before she spoke.  When she did, it wasn’t about what he expected.

“This brother of yours,” she asked, “how old is he?”

“Eighteen, almost.”

“Ah, a teenager then?” the bartender said knowingly.  Dean nodded.

“Well, look, sweetheart.  I don’t know your brother, but I definitely know teenagers.  And kids that age think they know everything about the world.  They also tend to speak before they think, and sometimes they can hurt people without realizing.  Now I get that he’s family, so what he says may carry more weight than what the other people around you say.  But he might have just been surprised, or, hell, maybe he just doesn’t have the life experience to understand just what you’re going through.  It sounds to me like everyone else in your life is supportive, though, and they all seem to take the same perspective on the issue – which I agree with.  Now I can’t tell you what to do, and I sure as hell can’t tell you what you are.  But, honestly, sweetheart, if you really like this guy, does any of the rest of it even matter?”

Dean just stared at her blankly, mind whirring with this new advice.  She held his gaze until someone called out to her from the other end of the bar, and she had to get back to work.

Before she left, the bartender reached over to pat Dean’s hand where it rested on the bar.

“I know you probably feel like your head’s about to explode right now,” she said, “but you’re going yo be okay.  You are.”  She winked at him before withdrawing her hand and sauntering over towards the end of the bar.

Dean couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face at that.  It stayed there as he finished his beer, slid off his barstool, and laid a couple of bills down next to his empty glass.

His smile grew when he turned back to the bartender to call out a thank you, and he caught sight of her tattoo.

_Jesse Forever_ had been inked across her lower back, looping script faded with the passage of time.  But just between the “s” and the “e”, was a darker black, newly inked “i."

* * *

Dean didn’t sleep well that night, body tossing and turning along with his mind.  Of all the things that he’d heard that night, the bartender’s words about family were what seemed to have stuck the most.  He thought about how he was valuing Sam’s reaction over the reactions of his closest friends – of Cas, even.  While he could acknowledge that the bartender had been right about Sammy and the nature of teenagers in general, he still couldn’t shake the need to be accepted by family, and not just friends.

By dawn, Dean had made a decision; he needed to call his mom.

* * *

Three and a half hours later, Dean was pacing back and forth across his room like a madman.

As sure as he was of his decision, actually putting it into action was more difficult than Dean had predicted.  All he could think about was what would happen if his mother had the same reaction that his brother had.  He knew it would destroy him, along with any chance he ever had with Cas, and yet he also knew that he needed to hear whatever she would have to say.  So, taking a deep breath, he picked up his phone and dialed.

Mary answered on the second ring.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Dean nodded nervously, even though he knew she couldn’t see him.  “I’m fine,” he said. “Why…why would you think I’m not?”

His mother chuckled.  “Because you’re up before ten on a Saturday,” she explained.

“Oh,” he said, unable to come up with any other response.

“Dean,” Mary said, concern leaking into her voice, “what’s wrong?”

If Dean had thought telling Sammy was difficult, opening up to his mother, over the phone of all ways, was near impossible.  He swallowed a few times, throat suddenly dry as a bone, before finally forcing the words out.

“Ma,” he said, “I, uh, I think I’m bi…bisexual.”

There was only a slight pause from the other end before his mother spoke again.  “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, “you sound so scared.  You didn’t think I’d be mad, did you?”

“I don’t know,” Dean confessed, “I told Sammy and he didn’t believe me.  He said I’m just saying it because I’m lonely, and it’s just some sort of phase and I just…I don’t know.”

“Dean,” Mary said, voice comforting but firm, “I hope you didn’t listen to him.  He’s just a teenager you know?  A teenager who really shouldn’t have said those things to you.  Nobody can tell you how _you_ feel.”

“So you don’t think I’m making it up?” Dean asked, hating how small his voice sounded.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” his mother reassured him, “I think I’ve known you long enough to know that you would never put yourself through, well, what it sounds like you’ve been going through, just for attention or some sort of _phase_.  And I hope you know that we love you, me and your father both.”

“Dad too?” Dean couldn’t help but ask.

“Of course, Dean.  You’re an adult, and a responsible one at that.  We trust you to make your own decisions and be your own person, and we love you no matter what.  You remember that, okay?”

“Okay, Ma,” Dean said, feeling the tight, nervous feeling that had settled in his chest start to ease up.

“Are you going to be okay, sweetheart?  Do you need to come home for a bit?”

Dean smiled at his mother’s concern.  “No,” he told her, “I, uh, I have some stuff that I need to take care of here.”

“Okay, then.  Well you know you can call us if you need us.”

“I know, Ma.  I’ll talk to you soon okay?”

“Okay sweetheart.  I love you.”

“Love you too,” Dean said, hanging up the phone and feeling more relaxed than he had in days.  His mother not only believed him, but she accepted him for who he was, and it was more of a relief than he had ever expected it to be.

He smiled to himself and pocketed his phone before reaching for his boots and his jacket.

There was one more thing he needed to do today.

* * *

Dean had never been to Cas’s apartment, but he knew that the other man lived in the graduate housing just off campus.  With a name like Castiel, it wasn’t hard to find his mailbox and, from there, his apartment number.

Still, he was undeniably nervous as he made his way to the front door, wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his jeans before reaching up to ring the bell.

When Castiel answered, however, in decidedly un-professor-like attire of flannel pajama pants and a grey t-shirt, Dean felt all of his nervousness fade away.

He was a hundred percent certain that he was attracted to Cas, and – with the advice of friends _and_ family on his side – he knew he was making the right decision here.

“Okay,” he said simply, “I’m in.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Really, man, Dr. Steamy over Dr. Sexy?  No way.”

“Yes way, Dean.”

“Aw, come on, Cas.  I mean yeah the dude’s hot and all, but he’s no contest for Dr. Sexy.  I mean, the cowboy boots alone-“

“I’m starting to think you have an unhealthy obsession with cowboy boots.”

“Aw whatever man,” Dean said, rolling his eyes fondly and turning back to face the TV.  It was a lazy Saturday, and he and Cas had spent the day lounging on the couch watching yet another marathon of Dr. Sexy, M.D,

They’d been seeing each other for a little over two weeks, and so far, Dean had found the whole thing to be surprisingly comforting.  He could be relaxed around Cas, could talk about guys (and girls) and not have to worry about any judgment.  Hell, he had basically spilled his guts to the guy, and he was still here, wasn’t he?  As the days had gone by, Dean had found himself worrying less and less about everything.  At this point he could admit that, yeah he liked guys, and yeah it was still weird sometimes, but he also liked Cas, and time with Cas was never weird.  It was fun and relaxed and, honestly, it just felt right.

“I just don’t see how you can like Steamy over Sexy,” Dean said again.

Cas laughed at the other man’s stubbornness, laying a hand on one of Dean’s legs where they were sprawled across his lap.  “Maybe I’m just partial to green eyes,” he said with a grin.

Dean smiled back, sitting up to press a soft kiss to the other man’s lips before settling against the armrest.  “Sap,” he muttered fondly.

They were quiet for a bit after that, with the exception of Dean’s occasional commentary.  Cas was pretty well versed in Dr. Sexy at this point, but Dean still liked to add in tidbits of backstory and information now and then.

As accustomed as he was to commenting on the show as they watched, when a scene where Dr. Sexy and Dr. Steamy were having a staredown in the hospital elevator came up, Dean didn’t even think before saying, “That’s some fanfiction shit right there.”

Cas turned to him, tilting his head in confusion, and for a moment Dean just hoped that maybe the other man hadn’t heard him clearly.

“Fanfiction?” Cas asked, and damn, no such luck.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said, “There’s a lot of it about, um, Dr. Sexy and Dr. Steamy together.  There’s also Dr. Wang and Dr. Piccalo. And, uh, Imayormaynotreadit.”  He blurted out the last bit, wondering why in the hell he was even telling Cas all of this, before groaning and burying his face in his hands.  “This is so embarrassing,” he mumbled.

But Cas just laughed at him, and not in the way he expected.  “Dean,” he said, “there’s no need to be so embarrassed.  Fanfiction has been around for years.  I’ve even read academic papers on it.”

Dean’s eyes widened at that bit of information, but he couldn’t quite get the blush to fade from his face.  “It’s still embarrassing,” he said. “Or weird, at least.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Dean, I’ve told you I used to read history textbooks for fun.  Are you really worried about who’s the weird one in this relationship?”

The younger man couldn’t help but smile at that.  “That’s true,” he agreed. “You’re much more of a nerd than I am.”

Cas looked like he was about to argue, so Dean just leaned in and shut him up with a kiss.

They were interrupted a moment later by the sound of the doorbell echoing through the apartment.

“I’ll get it,” Dean said, swinging his legs off of Cas’s lap and getting up to answer the door.

“Don’t think this argument is over!” Cas called over the back of the couch, but Dean just laughed as he pulled open the door.

And then stopped abruptly when it swung open to reveal Sam standing in front of him.

“Hey, Dean.  Can we talk?”

* * *

Not five minutes later, Dean found himself sitting out on the steps with his little brother, the same way he had with Cas just a few weeks prior.

Neither of them spoke for a minute, until Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

“What’s up, Sammy?” he said.  His tone was harsh, he knew, but he hadn’t spoken to Sam since spring break, and he wasn’t exactly looking forward to what his brother was going to say next.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, surprising him. “I’m really sorry for what I said, Dean.  Mom’s given me so much crap for it, told me just how wrong it was for me to laugh at you like that, to not believe you.  And I just wanted to tell you that I do believe you and apologize for how I reacted.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, not sure if he was relieved or angry.  “You wanted to because Mom told you to, or because that’s how you really feel?” he asked.

The hurt look on Sam’s face shot a pang of guilt through Dean’s gut.  The kid (well, moose) looked genuinely worked up over the whole thing.

“Because it’s how I really feel!” he insisted. “I believe you, Dean, and I’m sorry it took so long for me to tell you that.  You just – you have to understand, okay?  When you told me, I didn’t know what to think.  I mean, you had been pranking me all week, so I didn’t know if it was just another joke.  And then – I don’t know, man – it just didn’t make _sense_ , Dean.  I mean, I’ve known you my entire life, shouldn’t I have known something like that?”

Dean huffed a humorless laugh at that one.  “If it makes you feel any better, _I_ didn’t even know.”

“What?” Sam’s head whipped toward his brother, hair flying.

Dean just shrugged, “Not until, like, a few weeks before I told you.”

The younger Winchester looked to be at a loss for words.  He heaved a sigh and finally came up with, “Shit, man.”

“Mmhmm,” Dean agreed.

They sat in silence for a while, staring out into the emptiness of the parking lot.  Sam was the one to break it, this time.

“Dean,” he said hesitantly, “you know I still love you, right?  Like, no matter what happens, no matter what stupid things I say, you’re my big brother, and I love you.”

There was a pause before the older brother replied.  “I love you too, Sammy,” he said.  He let the heartfelt chick flick moment continue for another beat before teasing, “Bitch.”

Sam grinned.  “Jerk.”

“Okay, enough of this chick flick shit,” Dean said, pushing himself up off the step and moving towards his front door.  When he looked back over his shoulder, Sam was still sitting there, looking unsure about what to do.

“Well, are you coming in or what?” Dean asked him. “There’s, uh…there’s someone I want you to meet.”

The feeling that washed over Dean when Sam stood to follow him was most definitely relief.

It was good to have his little brother back.


	14. Chapter 14

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> > So I know I’m not supposed to be over thinking this whole thing but…what exactly are we?_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< < I was under the impression that we’re human.  Am I wrong?_

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> > Dick :P I mean like what do I call you man?  Like are we dating or…?_

_From: Castiel Novak_

_< < If it’s alright with you, I do consider you my boyfriend, Dean._

_To: Castiel Novak_

_> > Yeah cas…that’s alright with me :)_

Dean leaned against the counter and smiled as he scrolled through his texts from the previous night.

“You’re happy for a Monday,” Jo grumbled, knocking into his shoulder as she moved to grab a cup of coffee, handing him one as well.

Dean just smiled as he took a sip.  It was the last week of the semester, and Dean would never have predicted it would end this way.  He was bi, he had an awesome boyfriend, and he was okay with all of it.  More than okay…he really was happy.

Even better, Meg had called in sick.  So, instead of her dark storm cloud, it was Charlie’s bright personality that came flouncing into the Hut.

“Has it happened, yet?” she asked in lieu of an actual greeting.

Jo shook her head and checked her watch, “Five more minutes.”

Dean drifted automatically to the back of the Hut, trying not to laugh out loud at the absurdity of the whole thing.  Even though Dean had been dating the “Coffee Hut Hottie” for just over a month now, he had yet to inform any of his coworkers.  And although he still helped the other man with his coffees every other Thursday, they never really had a chance to say anything to each other when Cas came by in the mornings, at least, not enough that his coworkers suspected they were anything more than acquaintances.   So the girls continued their little competition, and Dean watched in amusement.

He had told Cas about the whole thing a week ago.  The other man had been flustered at first as Dean relayed what his coworkers thought of him, but now the two of them could joke about the whole thing.  Dean would usually send Cas a text right after he left the Hut, informing him of the girls’ daily comments.

He wasn’t trying to be cruel or anything, by not telling his coworkers and friends about the fact that he was dating Cas.  Honestly, he just hadn’t wanted to put it out there until he was sure it was going to last.  But now, after he and Cas had more or less made it official, he figured he probably should let them know.  His friends, that is – he felt no need for Meg or April to know his personal business.  The problem was, he had no idea how to go about it.

He didn’t want to just blurt it out.  Getting them all together just to say “oh hey by the way, I’m bi and I’m dating Cas,” seemed dumb.  Charlie and Benny already knew he wasn’t as straight as everyone thought, but even they didn’t know about Cas.

Dran considered his options as he watched the girls fuss around the front of the Hut and saw Cas approaching and realized there was an easy solution.

Hr made his move just after Cas had taken his coffee from Charlie at the pick-up station, slipping out of the Hut and catching up to the other man just as he went to walk away.

“Hey, Cas,” he said.

Cas looked confused. “Hello, Dean,” he said, “What-”

Dean cut him off before he could ask what was going on, pulling him in and planting a chaste kiss on the older man’s lips.

“Have a good day,” he said when they pulled back, unable to stop the smile that spread across his face.

Cas’s answering grin was brilliant.  “You too,” he said, pausing before he turned to walk away. “See you later?”

“Yeah, man,” Dean said. “See you later.”

Dean couldn’t help but watch as the other man turned and walk away from the Hut.  _Damn_ , he thought, _my boyfriend’s got a great ass_.

He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice as, behind him, Jo silently slipped Charlie a twenty dollar bill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, folks! Hope you all enjoyed.  
> If you're interested, you can find me on tumblr as [amoreprofoundbondmakesmefree](amoreprofoundbondmakesmefree.tumblr.com).


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